“Is this an office, Mister Raper, or is it a debating society?” broke in Fagan. “My answer to Moore is, pay, and go--to the devil, if he likes.” “Sir Harry Wheeler,” continued Joe, “writes from Cheltenham that he thinks there must be a mistake about the bill for three hundred and forty odd,--that it was included In the bond he gave in September last.” “File a bill, send for Crowther, and let him proceed against him.” “But I think he 's right, sir; the memorandum is somewhere here. I put it amongst the W's; for we have no box for Sir Harry.” “It's a nice way to keep accounts, Mister Raper; I must say it's very creditable to you,” said Fagan, who, when any inaccuracy occurred, always reproached Joe with the system that he rigidly compelled him to follow. “Perhaps it's classical, however; maybe it's the way the ancients did it! But I 'll tell you what, sir, you 'd cut an ugly figure before the courts if you came to be examined; your Latin and Greek wouldn't screen you there.” “Here it is,--here's the note,” said Joe, who had all the while been prosecuting his search. “It's in your own hand, and mentions that this sum forms a portion of the debt now satisfied by his bond.” “Cancel the bill, and tell him so. What's that letter yonder?” “It is marked 'strictly private and confidential,' sir; but comes from Walter Carew, Esq.” “Then why not give it to me at once? Why keep pottering about every trifle of no moment, sir?” said Fagan, as he broke the seal, and drew near to the window to read. It was very brief, and ran thus:-- Dear Fagan,--Shylock could n't hold a candle to you; such an infernal mess of interest, compound interest, costs, and commission as you have sent me I never beheld! However, for the present I must endure all your exactions, even to the tune of fifty per cent. Let me have cash for the enclosed three bills, for one thousand each, drawn at the old dates, and, of course, to be 'done' at the old discount. I have just taken a wife, and am in want of ready money to buy some of the customary tomfooleries of the occasion. Regards to Polly and her fat terrier. Yours, in haste, Walter Carew. “Read that,” said Fagan, handing the letter to his clerk, while the veins in his forehead swelled out with passion, and his utterance grew hoarse and thick. Raper carefully perused the note, and then proceeded to examine the bills, when Fagan snatched them rudely from his hand. “It was his letter I bade you read,--the gross insolence of his manner of addressing me. Where's his account, Raper? How does he stand with us?” “That's a long affair to make out,” said Joe, untying a thick roll of papers. “I don't want details. Can you never understand that? Tell me in three words how he stands.” “Deeply indebted,--very deeply indebted, sir,” said Joe, poring over the papers. “Tell Crowther to come over this evening at six o'clock, and write to Carew by this post, thus:--