"Yes, yes," cried the visitor, hurting himself by using his crook quite violently, and getting it back round his neck; "but a mere boy, sir, a mere boy. He's driven me away. I'm not going to church to hear him while there's a chapel. I want to know what the bishop was a thinking about." "Ah? but he's a scholar and a gentleman, Mr Gemp," said the manager, blandly. "Tchuck! so was the young doctor who set up and only lasted a year. If you were ill, sir, you wouldn't have gone to he; you'd have gone to Dr Luttrell. If I've got vallerable deeds to deposit, I don't go to some young clever-shakes who sets up in business, and calls himself a banker: I come to Dixons'." "And so you have some valuable deeds you want us to take care of for you, Mr Gemp," said the manager sharply. "Eh! I didn't say so, did I?" "Yes; and you want a hundred pounds. Shall I look at the deeds?" Mr Gemp brought his oaken crook down over his breast, and his quick, shifty eyes turned from the manager to the lethal weapons over the chimney, then to the safe, then to the bank, and Mr Thickens's back. "I say," he said at last, "arn't you scared about being robbed?" "Robbed! oh, dear no. Come, Mr Gemp. I must bring you to the point. Let me look at the deeds you have in your pocket; perhaps there will be no need to send them to our solicitor. A hundred pounds, didn't you say?" The old man hesitated, and looked about suspiciously for a few moments before meeting the manager's eyes. Then he succumbed before the firm, keen, searching look. "Yes," he said slowly, "I said a hundred pounds, but I don't want no hundred pounds. I want you--" He paused for a few moments with his hands at his breast, as if to take a long breath, and then, as if by a tremendous wrench, he mastered his fear and suspicion. "I want you to take care of these for me." He tore open his breast and brought out quickly a couple of dirty yellow parchments and some slips of paper, roughly bound in a little leather folio. The manager stretched his hand across the table and took hold of the parchments; but the old man held on by one corner for a few moments till Hallam raised his eyebrows and smiled, when the visitor uttered a deep sigh, and thrust parchments and little folio hastily from him. "Lock 'em up in yonder iron safe," he said hoarsely, taking up his blue handkerchief to wipe his brow. "It's open now, but you'll keep it locked, won't you?" "The deeds will be safe, Mr Gemp," said the manager coolly throwing open the parchment. "Ah! I see, the conveyances to a row of certain messuages." "Yes, sir; row of houses, Gemp's Terrace, all my own, sir; not a penny on 'em." "And these? Ah, I see, bank-warrants. Quite right, my dear sir, they will be safe. And you do not need an advance?" "Tchuck! what should I want with an advance? There's a good fifteen hundred pound there--all my own. Now you give me a writing, saying you've got 'em to hold for me, and that will do."