"Good-evening, sir," replied the stranger, evidently a little surprised at Titmouse's manner, and withdrew. Titmouse shut his door. With prodigious trepidation of hand and flutter of spirits, he opened the letter--an enclosure meeting his eyes in the shape of a bank-note. "Oh Lord!" he murmured, turning white as the sheet of paper he held. Then the letter dropped from his hand, and he stood as if stupefied for some moments; but presently rapture darted through him; a five-pound bank-note was in his hand, and it had been enclosed in the following letter:-- "_35, Thavies' Inn, 29th July 18--._ "MY DEAR MR. TITMOUSE, "Your last note addressed to our firm, has given me the greatest pain, and I hasten, on my return from the country, to forward you the enclosed trifle, out of my own personal resources--and I sincerely hope it will be of temporary service to you. May I beg the favor of your company on Sunday evening next, at seven o'clock, to take a glass of wine with me? I shall be quite alone and disengaged, and may have it in my power to make you some important communications, concerning matters in which, I assure you, I feel a very deep interest on your account. Begging the favor of an early answer to-morrow morning, I trust you will believe me, ever, my dear sir, your most faithful humble servant, "OILY GAMMON. "TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE, ESQ." The first balmy drop of the long-expected golden shower had at length fallen upon the panting Titmouse. How polite--nay, how affectionate and respectful--was the note of Mr. Gammon! and, for the first time in his life, he saw himself addressed "TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE, ESQUIRE."