that—put into the county paper. There was
a regular biography, besides, of the governess's
father, so as to stop people from
talking; a great flourish about his pedigree,
and a long account of his services in the
army; but not a word, mind ye, of his having
turned wine-merchant afterwards. Oh, no—
not a word about that! I knew it, though,
for Mr. Frank told me. He hadn't a bit of
pride about him. He introduced me to his
future wife one day when I met them out
walking, and asked me if I did not think he
was a lucky fellow. I don't mind admitting
that I did, and that I told him so. Ah! but she
was one of my sort, was that governess. Stood,
to the best of my recollection, five foot four.
Good lissome figure, that looked as if it had
never been boxed up in a pair of stays. Eyes
that made me feel as if I was under a pretty
stiff cross-examination the moment she
looked at me. Fine red, fresh, kiss-and-
come-again sort of lips. Cheeks and complexion—
No, my man in the corner, you
wouldn't identify her by her cheeks and com-
plexion, if I drew you a picture of them this
very moment. She has had a family of children
since the time I'm talking of; and her
cheeks are a trifle fatter and her complexion
is a shade or two redder now, than
when I first met her out walking with Mr.
Frank.

The marriage was to take place on a Wednesday.
I decline mentioning the year or
the month. I had started as an attorney on
my own account—say six weeks, more
or less, and was sitting alone in my office on
the Monday morning before the wedding-day,
trying to see my way clear before me and
not succeeding particularly well, when Mr.
Frank suddenly bursts in, as white as any
ghost that ever was painted, and says he's
got the most dreadful case for me to advise
on, and not an hour to lose in acting on my
advice.

"Is this in the way of business, Mr.
Frank?" says I, stopping him just as he was
beginning to get sentimental. " Yes or no,
Mr. Frank? " rapping my new office paper-
knife on the table to pull him up short all
the sooner.

"My dear fellow " —he was always familiar
with me " it's in the way of business, cer-
tainly; but friendship—"

I was obliged to pull him up short
again and regularly examine him as if he
had been in the witness-box, or he would have
kept me talking to no purpose half the day.

"Now, Mr. Frank," said I, " I can't have
any sentimentality mixed up with business
matters. You please to stop talking, and let
me ask questions. Answer in the fewest
words you can use. Nod when nodding will
do instead of words."

I fixed him with my eye for about three
seconds, as he sat groaning and wriggling in
his chair. When I'd done fixing him, I gave
another rap with my paper-knife on to the
table to startle him up a bit.  Then I
went on.

"From what you have been stating up to
the present time," says I, " I gather that
you are in a scrape which is likely to interfere
seriously with your marriage on Wednesday?"
(He nodded, and I cut in again
before he could say a word). " The scrape
affects the young lady you are about to marry,
and goes back to the period of a certain
transaction in which her late father was
engaged some years ago? " (He nods, and I
cut in oncemore.) "There is a party who turned
up after seeing the announcement of your
marriage in the paper, who is cognisant of
what he oughtn't to know, and who is prepared
to use his knowledge of the same, to
the prejudice of the young lady and of your
marriage, unless he receives a sum of money
to quiet him? Very well. Now, first of
all, Mr. Frank, state what you have been told
by the young lady herself about the transaction
of her late father. How did you first
come to have any knowledge of it?"

"She was talking to me about her father
one day, so tenderly and prettily, that she
quite excited my interest about him," begins
Mr. Frank; " and I asked her, among other
things, what had occasioned his death. She
said she believed it was distress of mind
in the first instance; and added that this
distress was connected with a shocking
secret, which she and her mother had kept
from everybody, but which she could not
keep from me, because she was determined
to begin her married life by having no secrets
from her husband." Here Mr. Frank began
to get sentimental again; and I pulled him
up short once more with the paper knife.

"She told me," Mr. Frank went on, " that
the great mistake of her father's life was
his selling out of the army and taking to the
wine trade. He had no talent for business;
things went wrong with him from the first.
His clerk, it was strongly suspected, cheated
him—"

"Stop a bit," says I, "What was that
suspected clerk's name?"

"Davager," says he.

"Davager," says I, making a note of it.
"Go on, Mr. Frank."

"His affairs got more and more entangled,"
says Mr. Frank; " he was pressed for money
in all directions; bankruptcy, and consequent
dishonour (as he considered it) stared him in
the face. His mind was so affected by his
troubles that both his wife and daughter,
towards the last, considered him to be hardly
responsible for his own acts. In this state of
desperation and misery, he—" Here Mr.
Frank began to hesitate.

We have two ways in the law, of drawing
evidence off nice and clear from an unwilling
client or witness. We give him a fright or
we treat him to a joke. I treated Mr. Frank
to a joke.

" Ah! " says I. " I know what he did. He