He told the manager his letters of credit ran from L5,000 to L20,000 each, and that he should want L10,000 the next day. Would they have it ready? The next day he went to the bank, George and myself being posted outside. In ten minutes he reappeared with a square bundle under his arm. He smiled as he passed us, and, turning a corner, entered a cafe, where he joined us. His bundle contained L10,000 in Brazilian bank notes. He assured us that everything was serene at the bank, that he could have L100,000 if he wanted to ask for it. I had already been to the three largest money brokers and arranged to buy gold. So, leaving Mac and George, I got a sole leather bag we had for the purpose, and, hiring a stalwart black porter, went to the brokers. I bought sovereigns for the whole L10,000. It was ten bags with one thousand pounds in each. The weight was 168 pounds. The black fellow put it on his head, and followed me to my hotel, and found it a pretty good load, too. So here we had one big fish landed, and confidently counted on several more. I related above how we had in some incomprehensible way omitted putting on the letter of credit the sub-manager's name. How could we have committed such a blunder? My answer is that this is only another example of the unforeseen "something" ever happening to defeat any anticipated benefit from ill-gotten gains. The next day Mac went to the bankers again, and was requested by the manager to show the letter of credit on which was indorsed the ten thousand pounds he had drawn against it. Looking at the letter, the manager said: "This is singular; there is only the name of Mr. Bradshaw, the manager, on this letter; J. P. Shipp, the sub-manager's name, should be on the credit as well." And then he went on to say that some time since they had been notified by the London Bank that all letters issued by them would bear two signatures. Mac was a man of nerve, but it required all he had not to betray his uneasiness. He said he really could not say how the omission had occurred; he supposed it must have been accidental, but he would examine his other letters as soon as he went back to the hotel. The look of chagrin and vexation on Mac's face when he came out was a sight to see, and one that is as vivid in my memory now as in that far off day in 1872. He went direct to the hotel, and there George and I soon joined him. We sat down and looked at each other. The game apparently was up, and we were a sorely disgusted party. We did not fall out with or reproach each other, but felt we deserved a kicking. We did not ask each other any questions, but I know our faces all wore a sadly puzzled look as we repeated mentally, "How could we have made such an oversight?" But soon another blunder--the misspelled word--was to crop up, that made this one of the omitted name seem as a fly to an eagle.