Finding no foe to fight withal, we began to suspect that Mr Chesterfield, as a new-comer, had been hoaxed, in our last halting-place, by some military wag; and Gingham and I fell into a long conversation, which he commenced by reminding me of our arrangement to campaign together, entered into a year before, at Falmouth. All obstacles, he said, were removed; he hoped, therefore, the plan would now be carried out. To this I readily consented; the advantages, indeed, were all on my side. Gingham then, in his own way, introduced a discussion respecting his plans and mine. Be it however premised, we had dined together the night before; and I had shown him some methods—more expeditious than those in common use, which were the only ones he knew—of reducing one denomination of coin to another: _e. g._, dollars to pounds sterling, pounds sterling to francs, &c. He expressed, as before, his high gratification; and begged my MS. calculations “in the strictest confidence,” depositing them in the recesses of his writing-desk. He now, as we were riding along, commenced an important, and, on his part, highly diplomatic conference, by a friendly examination as to the nature of my official duties at Lisbon. I described them, as I have described them to the reader a few chapters back. “Then, in fact,” said Gingham, “your last year has been employed to as good purpose as it could have been in any London counting-house.” (That was Gingham’s standard.) “You have had the keeping of a distinct account, and that in all its parts, from the items to the account current. Of course, it occupied your whole time.” “Not the whole,” said I. “There was some to spare, for which I had other employment.” “Indeed!” said Gingham, with interest. “Will you, Mr Y—, as a particular favour, permit me—confidentially of course—to make an inquiry?” “Make any inquiry you like: I shall feel pleasure in answering it.” “Would you, then,” said Gingham, “have the kindness to inform me—that is, unless you feel it a violation of official confidence—what were your other duties?” “No violation whatever. I kept the letter-books; managed the correspondence: not the whole correspondence of the department, but that of the branch I belonged to—the account office.” “Your duty, then,” said he, “was to arrange and enter all letters received, and to keep copies of all letters sent?” “Sometimes to copy, sometimes to make the draughts. A man soon gets into the way, you know.” “One entire account,” said Gingham, speaking to himself, “and one whole branch of correspondence! What an excellent introduction!” Not understanding in what sense he used the word “introduction,” I made no reply. “Of course,” he proceeded, “the correspondence was in English?” “Almost exclusively. I should scarcely feel equal to any other, except perhaps Portuguese.” “Might I not,” said Gingham, “add Spanish and French?”