It happened, that whilst Michael was immersed in the management of his loans, a hint was forwarded to him of the pranks of his partner; a letter, written by an anonymous hand, revealed his losses in one transaction, amounting to many hundred pounds. The news came like a thunderbolt to Allcraft. It was a death-blow. Iniquitous, unpardonable as were the acts of his colleague--serious as was the actual sum of money gone; yet these were as nothing compared with the distressing fact, that intelligence of the evil work had already gone abroad, was in circulation, and might at any moment put a violent end to his own unsteady course. He carried the note to Planner--he thrust it into his face, and called him to account for his baseness and ingratitude. He could have struck his friend and partner to the earth, and trod him there to death, as he confronted and upbraided him. "Now, sir," roared Allcraft in his fury--"What excuse--what lie have you at your tongue's end to palliate this? What can justify this? Will you never be satisfied until you have rendered me the same hopeless, helpless creature that I found you, when I dragged you from your [§] beggaring. Answer me!"-- There is nothing like a plaintive retort when your case is utterly indefensible. Planner looked at the letter, read it--then turned his eyes mildly and reproachfully upon his accuser. "Michael Allcraft," he said affectingly, "you treat me cruelly." "I!" answered the other astounded. "I treat _you_! Planner, I intrusted you years ago with a secret. I paid you well for keeping it. Could I dream that nothing would satisfy your rapacity but my destruction? Could I suppose it? I have fed your ravenous desires. I have submitted to your encroachments. Do you ask my soul as well as body? Let me know what it is you ask--what I have to pay--let me hear the worst, and--prepare for all my punishment." "I have listened to all you have said," continued Planner, "and I consider myself an ill-used man." Michael stared. "Yes--I mean it. I have worked like a negro for you Allcraft, and this is the return you make me. I get your drift; do not attempt to disguise it--it is cruel--most, most cruel! "What do you mean?" "Have I not always promised to share my gains with you?" "Pshaw--_your_ gains--where are they?" "That's nothing to the point. Did I not promise?" "Well--well." "And now, after all my labour and struggling, because I have _failed_, you wish to turn me off, and throw me to the world. Now, speak the truth, man--is it not so?"