"As I turned over the dusty papers, I overheard the following conversation:
"'So you can't manage it for me any way?' said M'Flummery to Snaps.
"'I have not anything at my bankers',' answered Snaps,— a lie, for his was the best account of any professional man at Brookes and Dixon's, and I had that morning paid in five hundred and eighty pounds eleven and tenpence;)—'and, by the bye, Pounce, my confidential man, knows that. Have I, Pounce?'
"'Not anything,' said I; 'I'll be on my oath!'
"With that M'Flummery said, 'It's cursed hard.—I must be at Newmarket on Tuesday, and nothing less than two thousand will do for me.—So you cannot get it on my bond or note?'
"'Money is money, and holders are firm,' said Snaps. 'What do you think of a mortgage? You gave, if I recollect right, six thousand for the hunting-lodge and the acres in Leicestershire.'
"'Yes!' replied M'Flummery, 'and lost it six months since in one morning, at Graham's.'
"'The house in Park Lane?'
"'Belongs to Miss V. the rich old maid.'
"'The furniture?'