"And I suppose the mines do not really exist?" "Oh! yes; they do--upon his maps! However, he has been exhibiting certain specimens of tin, which he has passed off as Ercalat produce; and it is now pretty generally known that the article was supplied him by a house in Aldgate." "Then he will be compelled to resign his gown?" "Not he! On the contrary, he stands next in rotation for the honours of the civic chair; and he intends to go boldly forward as if nothing had happened. You must remember that the aldermen of the City of London have degenerated considerably in respectability during late years; and that none of the really influential and wealthy men in the City will have anything to do with the corporation affairs. You do not see any great banker nor merchant wearing the aldermanic gown. The only alderman who really possessed what may be called a large fortune, and whose pecuniary position was above all doubt, resigned his gown the other day in disgust at the treatment which he received from his brother authorities, in consequence of his connexion with the _Weekly Courier_--the only newspaper that boldly, fearlessly, and effectually advocates the people's cause." "And Dumkins will not resign, you think?" "Oh! decidedly not. But for my part," added Montague, "I feel convinced that the sooner some change is made in the City administration the better. Only conceive the immense sums which the corporation receives from various sources, and the uses to which they are applied. Look at the beastly guzzling at Guildhall, while there are in the very heart of the City Augean stables of filth, crime, and debauchery to be cleansed--witness Petticoat-lane, Smithfield----" A species of groan or stifled exclamation of horror issued from the lips of Walter as Montague uttered these words: her countenance grew deadly pale, and her entire frame appeared to writhe under a most painful reminiscence or emotion. "Compose yourself, compose yourself," said Stephens, hastily. "Shall I ring for a glass of water, or wine, or anything----" "No, it is past," interrupted Walter Sydney; "but I never think of that horrible--that appalling adventure without feeling my blood curdle in my veins. The mere mention of the word Smithfield----" "Could I have been indiscreet enough to give utterance to anything calculated to annoy?" said Montague, who was surprised at this scene. "You were not aware of the reminiscence you awoke in my mind by your remark," answered Walter, smiling; "but were you acquainted with the particulars of that fearful night, you would readily excuse my weakness." "You have excited Mr. Montague's curiosity," observed Stephens, "and you have now nothing to do but to gratify it." "It is an adventure of a most romantic kind--an adventure which you will scarcely believe--and yet one that will make your hair stand on end."