"I've got a memorandum of them in my desk, that I made at the time. I'll get it out. Hallo!" said Prescott, opening his desk, and taking therefrom a sealed letter; "what's this?" holding it up.
"Oh, by Jove, I forgot to tell you! that came while you were away, and I put it in your desk, thinking to name it to you directly you returned. Nothing particular, I hope?"
"I don't know; it's very thick, and I don't know the hand. It cannot be a writ, eh?" and Prescott turned very pale.
"Writ, nonsense! they don't send writs by post. Don't you know the handwriting? it's not round enough for a lawyer's. Open it, man; open it at once!"
And so, wanting to know the contents of the letter, they actually thought of opening it.
As Prescott opened the envelope he drew from it a thick roll of papers, and unfolding them, looked at them with wonder. Pringle, looking over his shoulder, started; and, taking them from his friend's hand, exclaimed,
"Bills, by Jove! cancelled bills look here, the signature torn off and hanging. The very bills you gave to Scadgers; mine, Compter's, your IOU, and the lot! You've been chaffing me, Jim--getting a rise out of me all this time, eh?"
"What do you mean by getting a rise? I'm as innocent in this matter as yourself."
"But do you mean to say that you didn't pay them?"
"I mean to say that I've never paid Scadgers one individual sixpence!"