"Well, he will not dispute your charges. I daresay they are much the same as those of other people in the same situation with yourself."
"Are there others in that condition?" enquired the stranger; "what an unprincipled scoundrel!"
"Who, sir? How dare you apply such language to a gentleman?"
"I did not, sir, apply it to a gentleman; I applied it to Mr Chatterton."
"To me, sir! It was to me! I'm Mr Chatterton, sir; and now, out with your writ—whose suit? What's the amount? Is it Stulz or Dean?"
The stranger steps back on this announcement, and politely but coldly lifted his hat.
"Oh, curse your politeness!" exclaimed the young man, in the extremity of anger. "Where's the bill?"
"I don't know your meaning, sir," answered the stranger, "in talking about writs and bills; but"—
"Why—are you not a tailor, or a bootmaker, or something of the kind? Don't you say you have claims on me, and don't you talk of charges with vouchers, and heaven knows what? Come, let us hear. I'll give you a promissory note, and I daresay my friend Major M'Toddy will give me his security."
"I thought you had recently succeeded to a fortune, sir? but that, I suppose, was only another of your false and unfounded assertions. Do you know me, sir?"