“Fauntleroy’s doom was so thoroughly recognised as well merited,” writes Mr Thornbury, sternly, about forty years after the event, “that although in 1832 every other kind of forger was exempted by law from the gallows, the hands of the hangman still hovered over the forger of wills and powers of attorney to transfer stock.” Yet, since the penalty was never inflicted, this argument appears superfluous. Fauntleroy certainly is the prince of forgers, as truly as Jack Sheppard is the greatest of prison-breakers and George Barrington the finest genius among pickpockets. Although driven to crime in the first instance by moral cowardice and craving for self-indulgence, he must have possessed an almost Napoleonic confidence that his abilities would conquer misfortune. Too proud to surrender the terrible struggle, he refused to adopt the easy alternative of flight to France with his ill-gotten gains. When one tries to realise the stupendous task of manipulating figures of such magnitude for so many years, the brain reels. The regular payment of huge dividends lest the victims should become aware of their loss, the constant replacement of stock when discovery seemed to threaten, the repeated buying and selling in order to rob Peter to-day to pay Paul to-morrow, the daily juggling with the books, and adjustment of balances, added to the incessant vigilance lest the errors of a few figures should mean betrayal to partners or clerks--all these wonderful transactions show an example of mathematical legerdemain such as the world has seldom seen. When it is borne in mind that the man was playing for nearly ten years with sums amounting in the aggregate to half a million sterling, his title to the incomparable forger of all time cannot be challenged. But like many another who has contributed to the public amusement, his memory soon faded from the minds of all save his creditors. Scarcely had the curtain been rung down on the tragedy of Fauntleroy, when it rose again upon the entrancing drama of accommodating Miss Foote and wayward Mr ‘Pea-green’ Hayne. Occasionally, but not often, we hear mention of the banker’s name, and there was a recent reference to it in one of the delightful novels of Anthony Hope. “It is no longer a capital offence,” declares ribald Arty Kane, referring to forgery, and addressing charming Peggy Ryle; “you won’t be hanged in silk knee-breeches like Mr Fauntleroy.” _Part II.--Some Details of the Forgeries._ [Sidenote: The Berners Street bankruptcy.]