One day--about a fortnight before Mr. Brown's visit to the London warehouse of the Frenchmen--M. Voleur and a fair countrywoman, who was not Madame Voleur, were proceeding along one of the quiet streets of the City, in the afternoon, not many hours before the departure of the tidal train, by which they intended to quit the British metropolis, when that elegant gentleman was tapped on the shoulder in the politest manner by a man who turned out, on further acquaintanceship, to be an officer of the Sheriff of London. The Frenchman was conveyed to the sponging-house over which this officer presided, despite his protests and the lady's tears. The creditors, Messrs. Downey and Grabble, had made an affidavit that the debtor, M. Voleur, was about to leave the country with the view of hindering and delaying the recovery by them of the money to which they were entitled; and, upon the strength of this oath, one of the learned judges had authorised the detention of the Frenchman until he paid the demand, gave bail for its payment, or liquidated the obligation in bankruptcy. Messrs. Voleur and Co.'s agent rushed to the office of a skilful attorney, who was instructed to do his best for the prisoner. This gentleman met Mr. Downey and his lawyer in the reluctant lodgings of M. Voleur, that unlucky man being present. A quarrel was cut short, or nearly prevented, by considerations of prudence. M. Voleur's attorney led the discussion into a practical current by saying to his opponents, "I tell you plainly, that my client can't put in bail, and he won't lie in prison. If you don't voluntarily release him, I'll file his petition in bankruptcy. It was foolish on your part to lock him up. He can't get the money to pay you while he is here; but if he had his liberty, he might do so. He's a clever fellow, and will not stop yet awhile, unless you are silly enough to stop him. If you let him alone, taking care not to trust him any more yourselves, but not thwarting him or destroying his credit, you may easily float out in the course of a month or two." Mr. Downey and his attorney were struck by the ingenuity, if not force, of the argument, but not quite persuaded to release the debtor. "Can you offer us any security?" Mr. Downey's adviser asked. "No," was the terse rejoinder. "Then I don't see the advantage of liberating your client," added the creditor's attorney. The negotiation would have broken off at this point, but for the Frenchman's ready wit. He had a resource. He had a small contingent property in France. It was valuable enough to cover the debt of Downey and Grabble, although not to be easily realised in this country. He did not like to part with this, his only fortune, to a stranger. A Frenchman is literally and absolutely nothing, if not always sentimental, and occasionally lachrymose.