“Good heavens!” cried Jack, “this is downright impossible. This is a vile falsehood, devised for some infernal scheme of roguery. Who 'd believe such a trumpery piece of imposition? Ah, Scanlan, you are not the wily fellow I took you for. This same precious note-book was dropped as a decoy, as I once knew a certain noble lord to have left his betting-book behind him. An artful device, that can only succeed once, however. And you really believed all this?” “I did, and I do believe it,” said Scanlan, firmly. “If you really say so, we must put the matter to the test. Captain Martin is here,--we 'll send for him, and ask him the question; but I must say I don't think your position will be a pleasant one after that reply is given.” “I must remind you of your promise already, it seems,” said Scanlan. “You are pledged to say nothing of this, if you cannot persuade yourself to act along with me in it.” “Very true,” said Massingbred, slowly; “but I never pledged myself to credit an impossibility.” “I ask nothing of the kind. I only claim that you should adhere to what you have said already. If this statement be untrue, all my speculations about it fall to the ground at once. I am the dupe of a stale trick, and there's an end of it.” “Ay, so far all well, Master Scanlan; but _I_ have no fancy to be associated in the deception. Can't you see that?” “I can, sir, and I do. But perhaps there may be a readier way of satisfying your doubts than calling for the Captain's evidence. There is a little page in this same volume devoted to one Mr. Massingbred. _You_ surely may have some knowledge about _his_ affairs. Throw your eye over that, sir, and say what you think of it.” Massingbred took the book in his hand and perused the place pointed out to him. “By Jove! this _is_ very strange,” said he, after a pause. “Here is my betting-book on the St. Hubert all transcribed in full,--however the Jew boy got hold of it; and here 's mention of a blessed hundred-pound note, which, in less than five years, has grown to upwards of a thousand!” “And all true? All fact?” “Perfectly true,--most lamentable fact, Master Scanlan! How precise the scoundrel is in recording this loan as 'after supper at Dubos'!' Ay, and here again is my unlucky wager about Martingale for the 'Chester,' and the handicap with Armytage. Scanlan, I recant my rash impression. This is a real work of its great author! _Aut Merl--aut Diabolus_.” “I could have sworn it,” said Scanlan. “To be sure you could, man, and have done, ere this time o' day, fifty other things on fainter evidence. But let me tell you it requires strong testimony to make one believe that there should live such a consummate fool in the world as would sell his whole reversionary right to a splendid state of some twelve thousand--” “Fifteen at the lowest,” broke in Scanlan. “Worse again. Fifteen thousand a year for twenty-two thousand seven hundred and sixty-four pounds sterling.” “And he has done it.”