“'Tis a sad story indeed,” said Mrs. Abington. “The man is as bad as bad can be. He claimed acquaintance with me on that famous night at the Pantheon, though I must confess that I had only a vague recollection of meeting him before his regiment was ordered across the Atlantic to quell the rebellion in the plantations. Only two days ago I heard that he had been drummed out of the army, and that he had sunk to the lowest point possible for a man to fall to in this world. But surely you know that all the fellow wants is to levy what was termed on the border of Scotland 'blackmail' upon the unhappy girl. 'Tis merely a question of guineas, Dr. Goldsmith. You perceive that? You are a man?” “That was indeed my first belief; but, on consideration, I have come to think that he is fiend enough to aim only at the ruin of the girl,” said Goldsmith. “Psha! sir, I believe not in this high standard of crime. I believe not in the self-sacrifice of such fellows for the sake of their principles,” cried the lady. “Go to the fellow with your guineas and shake them in a bag under his nose, and you shall quickly see how soon he will forego the dramatic elements in his attitude, and make an ignoble grab at the coins.” “You may be right,” said he. “But whence are the guineas to come, pray?” “Surely the lady's friends will not see her lost for the sake of a couple of hundred pounds.” “Nay; but her aim is to keep the matter from the ears of her friends! She would be overcome with shame were it to reach their ears that she had written letters of affection to such a man.” “She must be a singularly unpractical young lady, Dr. Goldsmith.” “If she had not been more than innocent would she, think you, have allowed herself to be imposed on by a stranger?” “Alas, sir, if there were no ladies like her in the world, you gentlemen who delight us with your works of fiction would have to rely solely on your imagination; and that means going to another world. But to return to the matter before us; you wish to obtain possession of the letters? How do you suggest that I can help you to accomplish that purpose?” “Why, madam, it is you to whom I come for suggestions. I saw the man in conversation with you first at the Pantheon, and then in this very room. It occurred to me that perhaps--it might be possible--in short, Mrs. Abington, that you might know of some way by which the scoundrel could be entrapped.” “You compliment me, sir. You think that the entrapping of unwary men--and of wary--is what nature and art have fitted me for--nature and practice?”