“Nay,” he cried, “it is you who have not yet told me by what means you became possessed of the letters which I wanted--by what magic you substituted for them the mock act of the comedy which I carried with me into the supper room.” “Psha, sir!” said she, “'twas a simple matter, after all. I gathered from a remark the fellow made when laying his cloak across the chair, that he had the letters in one of the pockets of that same cloak. He gave me a hint that a certain Ned Cripps, who shares his lodging, is not to be trusted, so that he was obliged to carry about with him every document on which he places a value. Well, sir, my well known loyalty naturally received a great shock when he offered to drink to the American rebels, and you saw that I left the table hastily. A minute or so sufficed me to discover the wallet with the letters; but then I was at my wits' end to find something to occupy their place in the receptacle. Happily my eye caught the roll of your manuscript, which lay in your hat on the floor beneath the chair, and heigh! presto! the trick was played. I had a sufficient appreciation of dramatic incident to keep me hoping all the night that you would be able to get possession of the wallet, believing it contained the letters for which you were in search. Lord, sir! I tried to picture your face when you drew out your own papers.” The actress lay back on her couch and roared with laughter, Goldsmith joining in quite pleasantly. “Ah!” he said; “I can fancy that I see at this moment the expression which my face wore at the time. But the sequel to the story is the most humourous. I succeeded last night in picking the fellow's pocket, but he paid me a visit this afternoon with the intent of recovering what he termed his property.” “Oh, lud! Call you that humourous? How did you rid yourself of him?” At the story of the fight which had taken place in Brick Court, Mrs. Abington laughed heartily after a few breathless moments. “By my faith, sir!” she cried; “I would give ten guineas to have been there. But believe me, Dr. Goldsmith,” she added a moment afterwards, “you will live in great jeopardy so long as that fellow remains in the town.” “Nay, my dear,” said he. “It was Baretti whom he threatened as he left my room--not I. He knows that I have now in my possession such documents as would hang him.” “Why, is not that the very reason why he should make an attempt upon your life?” cried the actress. “He may try to kill Baretti on a point of sentiment, but assuredly he will do his best to slaughter you as a matter of business.” “Faith, madam, since you put it that way I do believe that there is something in what you say,” said Goldsmith. “So I will e'en take a hackney-coach to the Temple and get the stalwart Ginger to escort me to the very door of my chambers.” “Do so, sir. I am awaiting with great interest the part which you have yet to write for me in a comedy.”