“Now comes the per contra: poor little despised Noah Skinner has kept genuine books while you have been preparing false ones. I took the real figures home every afternoon on loose leaves, and bound 'em: and very curious they will read in court alongside of yours. I did it for amusement o' nights: I'm so solitary, and so fond of figures. I must try and turn them to profit; for I'm out of place now in my old age. Dearee me! how curious that you should go and pick out me of all men to turn into the street--like a dog--like a dog--like a dog.” Hardie turned his head away; and in that moment of humiliation and abject fear, drank all the bitterness of moral death. His manhood urged him to defy Skinner and return to the straight path, cost what it might. But how could he? His own books were all falsified. He could place a true _total_ before his creditors by simply adding the contents of his secret hoard to the assets of the Bank; but with this true arithmetical result he could not square his books, except by conjectural and fabricated details, which would be detected, and send him to prison; for who would believe he was lying in figures only to get back to the truth? No, he had entangled himself in his own fraud, and was at the mercy of his servant. He took his line. “Skinner, it was your interest to leave me whilst the bank stood; then you would have got a place directly; but since you take umbrage at my dismissing you for your own good, I must punish you--by keeping you.” “I am quite ready to stay and serve you, sir,” replied Skinner hastily “and as for my angry words, think no more of them! It went to my heart to be turned away at the very time you need me most.” (“Hypocritical rogue!” thought Hardie.) “That is true, Skinner,” said he; “I do indeed need a faithful and sympathising servant, to advise, support, and aid me. Ask yourself whether any man in England needs a confidant more than I. It was bitter at first to be discovered even by you: but now I am glad you know all; for I see I have undervalued your ability as well as your zeal.” Thus Mr. Hardie bowed his pride to flatter Skinner, and soon saw by the little fellow's heightened colour that this was the way to make him a clerk of wax. The banker and his clerk were reconciled. Then the latter was invited to commit himself by carrying on the culinary process in his own hand. He trembled a little, but complied, and so became an accomplice. On this his master took him into his confidence, and told him everything it was impossible to hide from him. “And now, sir,” said Skinner, “let me tell you what I did for you this morning. Then perhaps you won't wonder at my being so peppery. Maxley _suspects:_ he came here and drew out every shilling. I was all in a perspiration what to do. But I put a good face on, and----”