"I think, sir, you have done us a great service; and I know we are very much obliged," said Cleve, with his most engaging smile. "And do you know what I think of myself? I think I'm a d----d fool, unless I look for some advantage." "Don't you think, sir, you have found it, on the whole, advantageous, your coming here?" insinuated Cleve. "Barren, sir, as a voyage on the Dead Sea. The test is this--what have I by it? not five pounds, sir, in the world. Now, I've opened my mind a little to you upon this subject, and I'm of the same mind still; and if I've opened Aladdin's garden to you, with its fruitage of emeralds, rubies, and so forth, I expect to fill my snuff-box with the filings and chippings of your gigantic jewellery." Cleve half repented his visit, now that the presence of the insatiable Mr. Dingwell, and his evident appetite for more money, had justified the representations of the suspected attorney. "I shall speak to Mr. Larkin on the subject," said Cleve Verney. "D----n Larkin, sir! Speak to me." "But, Mr. Dingwell, I have really, as I told you before, no authority to speak; and no one has the least power in the matter but my uncle." "And what the devil did you come here for?" demanded Mr. Dingwell, suddenly blazing up into one of his unaccountable furies. "I suppose you expected me to congratulate you on your success, and to ask leave to see your uncle in his coronet--ha, ha, ha!--or his cap and bells, or whatever he wears. By ---- sir, I hope he holds his head high, and struts like a peacock, and has pleasant dreams; time enough for nightmares, sir, hereafter, eh? Uneasy rests the head that wears the crown! Good evening, sir; I'll talk to Mr. Larkin." And with these words Mr. Dingwell got up, looking unaccountably angry, and made a half-sarcastic, half-furious bow, wherewith he dismissed Mr. Cleve Verney, with more distinct convictions than ever that the old gentleman was an unmitigated beast, and more than half a lunatic. CHAPTER XVI. IN LORD VERNEY'S LIBRARY. WHO should light upon Cleve that evening as he walked homeward but our friend Tom Sedley, who was struck by the anxious pallor and melancholy of his face. Good-natured Sedley took his arm, and said he, as they walked on together,-- "Why don't you smile on your luck, Cleve?" "How do you know what my luck is?" "All the world knows that pretty well." "All the world knows everything but its own business." "Well, people do say that your uncle has lately got the oldest peerage--one of them--in England, and an estate of thirty-seven thousand a year, for one thing, and that you are heir-presumptive to these trifles." "And that heirs-presumptive often get nothing but their heads in their hands." "No, you'll not come Saint Denis nor any other martyr over us, my dear boy; we know very well how you stand in that quarter."