The scene is Mr. Tomlinson's office in Tokenhouse Yard.
The stock-broker was seated at his desk. His manner was nervous, and his countenance expressive of anxiety: he had, indeed, passed a sleepless night—for he saw in the conduct of the Resurrection Man the renewal of a system of extortion which was not likely to cease so long as there was a secret to be hushed up.
The careful aspect of the stock-broker was not, however, noticed by Mr. Alderman Sniff, who was lounging against the mantel, with his back to the fire, and expatiating on his own success in life—a favourite subject with this civic functionary, who considered "success" to be nothing more nor less than the accumulation of money from a variety of schemes and representations so nearly allied to downright swindling, that it was impossible to say what a jury would have thought of them had they come under the notice of a criminal tribunal.
"But how have you managed to do it all?" asked Tomlinson, by way of saying something—although his thoughts were far removed from the topic of Mr. Alderman Sniff's discourse.
"You see I began life with plenty of money," returned the Alderman: "I mean I had a decent fortune at the death of my father, which took place when I was about two-and-twenty. But that soon went; and I was glad to accept an offer to go out to India. On my arrival at Madras I was inducted into a situation as clerk in a mercantile establishment; and there I was making some little money, when I was foolish enough to issue a prospectus for the 'General Boa-Constrictor Killing and Wild Beast Extirpation Joint-Stock Company,'—a project which was not so well relished as I could have wished. My employers discharged me; and, deeply disgusted with the ignorance of the English settlers and the natives, who could not understand the magnitude of my designs, I came back to England. My trip to India was, however, very useful to me; for, on my return to this country, I lived splendidly on the Deccan Prize Money for four years."
"Lived on the Deccan Prize Money!" exclaimed Tomlinson: "why—what claim had you to any of it?"
"None," replied Mr. Sniff; "I never was in the Deccan in my life. But I declared that I had claims to I can't remember how many lacs of rupees; and it was very easy to obtain loans from friends and get bills cashed on the strength of the assertion. Of course this had an end: the settlement of the Deccan Prize Money affairs was interminable; but the facility for procuring cash on the strength of it was not equally lasting. However,—as I just now observed,—I lived comfortably on my alleged claims for four years; and then I started the 'Universal Poor Man's Corn-Plaster and Blister Gratuitous Distribution Society.' I got several philanthropic and worthy men to join me in this laudable undertaking: we took splendid offices in King Street, Cheapside; and the enterprise progressed wonderfully. How well I remember our first annual meeting at Exeter Hall! The great room was crowded to excess. I was the Secretary, and it was my duty to read the Report of the Committee. That document had been drawn up in most pathetic language by some poor devil of an author whom I employed for the purpose; and it produced a wonderful effect. It was really quite touching to see how the ladies—poor dear creatures!—wept tears of the most refreshing philanthropy, when I enumerated the blessings which this Society had conferred upon vast numbers of individuals. Nine thousand six hundred and sixty-seven Corn-Plasters and eleven thousand two hundred and fourteen Blisters had been distributed gratuitously, during the year, to as many poor suffering creatures, who had all been thereby cured of corns previously deemed inveterate, and of chest-complaints that until then had received no medical attention. The Report dwelt upon the gratitude of thousands of poor families for the relief thus dispensed, and congratulated the members of the Society on the claims they possessed to the applause of the whole Christian world. Subscriptions rained in upon me in perfect torrents; and there was not a tearless eye throughout that vast hall."
"How was it that so excellent an institution became extinct?" asked Tomlinson, awaking from his reverie when the Alderman paused.
"I really can scarce tell you," was the reply. "Whether it was that the public thought there could not possibly be any more corns to cure or pulmonary complaints to heal,—or whether it was in consequence of a proposition which I made, in an unlucky hour, to extend the benefits of the Society to the poor savages in the islands of the Pacific,—I can't say: it is, however, certain that the subscribers were very 'backward in coming forward' at the third annual meeting; and so the institution dwindled into nothing. I had, nevertheless, saved some little money; and I was not long idle. My next spec. was 'The Metropolitan Poor Family's Sunday-Dinner Gratuitous Baking Association.' You perceive that I am fond of dealing in humane and philanthropic enterprises. My idea was to establish numerous baking-houses all over London, and to cook the poor man's Sunday joint and potatoes for him, the Society reserving to itself the dripping, which being sold, and the profits added to the voluntary subscriptions received from the charitable, would support these most useful institutions. At the end of a year, however, I was compelled to dissolve the Association, after having gone to the expense of building no less than sixty enormous ovens in as many different parts of London."