Quite eighteen months had elapsed, when it became evident to me that Mr Blakeford was in some trouble with one of his clients. This latter, a tall florid-looking farmer, had, as I learned from what I heard of their conversation, borrowed money from my employer upon some security, with the understanding that payment was not to be enforced so long as the heavy interest was provided for. Mr Blakeford's business seemed to consist a great deal in money-lending, and every now and then my old acquaintance, Mr Rowle, came to the office for instructions, and found time for a friendly chat. Upon this occasion I noticed that Mr Blakeford was very anxious about the coming of some one to the office, and he spent a good deal of time in watching from one of the windows. He was sternly examining a piece of copying that I had just finished, when there came three heavy knocks with a stick upon the outer door of the office. Mr Blakeford turned yellow, and, catching me by the arm, whispered-- "It's Mr Wooster. Antony, say I'm not at home. Say I've gone out. Quick." He pushed me towards the door, and I went to open it just as there were three more heavy knocks, and on drawing back the fastening, there stood Mr Wooster, the stout, tall, farmer-looking man, scowling and angry. "Where's Mr Blakeford?" he cried, catching me fiercely by the collar, and shaking a stout ash stick he carried. "Please, sir--" I began. "It's a lie!" he roared; "he's not out. Didn't he tell you to say he was out?" "Yes, sir," I faltered, and he strode straight in; and as I followed, I saw him catch Mr Blakeford by the throat and pin him in his chair. "Fetch the constable, Antony," cried Mr Blakeford. "Quick!" "Stop where you are, you young dog," roared the farmer, "or I'll kill you. Now, you scoundrel, what do you mean by seizing my goods, by putting your rascally man in possession after promising me in this office that you would never put me to any inconvenience?" "If you have any complaint to make against me, Mr Wooster, employ your solicitor," cried Mr Blakeford hoarsely. "Hang your solicitor and the whole crew, you scoundrelly serpent!" roared the farmer. "You've ruined me, as you ruined that poor boy's father, and a score more before him." "Antony--a constable--help!" cried Mr Blakeford, for he was yellow and green with fear. "If Antony Grace stirs, I'll crush him like I would a snail," cried the farmer. "And now look here, you crawling snake; I trusted you because I didn't believe any one could deliberately ruin another for the sake of a few pounds." "Mr Wooster, if you dare to strike me," cried the miserable coward, "I shall proceed against you for assault." "So you may," cried the farmer, with a bitter laugh; "and as you've got every penny I had, much good may it do you. Look here, Blakeford; if I knew that I should be transported for life to Botany Bay for what I'm going to do, I'd do it now."