“Then why not get out of it? I have no objection to run the risk, and if you like to transact with me, I will pay you ready money for every share you have at the present market price.” Sawley writhed uneasily in his chair. “Will you sell me five hundred, Mr. Sawley? Say the word and it is a bargain.” “A time-bargain?” quavered the coffin-maker. “No. Money down, and scrip handed over.” “I--I can’t. The fact is, my dear young friend, I have sold all my stock already!” “Then permit me to ask, Mr. Sawley, what possible objection you can have to the present aspect of affairs? You do not surely suppose that we are going to issue new shares and bring down the market, simply because you have realised at a handsome premium?” “A handsome premium! O Lord!” moaned Sawley. “Why, what did you get for them?” “Four, three, and two and a half.” “A very considerable profit indeed,” said I; “and you ought to be abundantly thankful. We shall talk this matter over at another time, Mr. Sawley, but just now I must beg you to excuse me. I have a particular engagement this morning with my broker--rather a heavy transaction to settle--and so--” “It’s no use beating about the bush any longer,” said Mr. Sawley, in an excited tone, at the same time dashing down his crape-covered castor on the floor. “Did you ever see a ruined man with a large family? Look at me, Mr. Dunshunner--I’m one, and you’ve done it!” “Mr. Sawley! Are you in your senses?” “That depends on circumstances. Haven’t you been buying stock lately?” “I am glad to say I have--two thousand Glenmutchkins, I think, and this is the day of delivery.” “Well, then, can’t you see how the matter stands? It was I who sold them!” “Well!” “Mother of Moses, sir! Don’t you see I’m ruined?” “By no means--but you must not swear. I pay over the money for your scrip, and you pocket a premium. It seems to me a very simple transaction.” “But I tell you I haven’t got the scrip!” cried Sawley, gnashing his teeth, while the cold beads of perspiration gathered largely on his brow. “That is very unfortunate! Have you lost it?” “No! the devil tempted me, and I oversold!” There was a very long pause, during which I assumed an aspect of serious and dignified rebuke. “Is it possible?” said I, in a low tone, after the manner of Kean’s offended fathers. “What! you, Mr. Sawley--the stoker’s friend--the enemy of gambling--the father of Selina--condescend to so equivocal a transaction? You amaze me! But I never was the man to press heavily on a friend”--here Sawley brightened up. “Your secret is safe with me, and it shall be your own fault if it reaches the ears of the Session. Pay me over the difference at the present market price, and I release you of your obligation.” “Then I’m in the Gazette, that’s all,” said Sawley, doggedly, “and a wife and nine beautiful babes upon the parish! I had hoped other things from you, Mr. Dunshunner--I thought you and Selina--”