habits might wean him from evil. If I would
kindly pledge myself to breathe no word of the
transaction until I should see my employers,
disgrace might yet be avoided.

I consented. My duty to Hallett and Jones
was clear, and, besides, it would have been
very damaging to my future prospects to have
earned the imputation of having neglected the
interests of employers so kind and liberal as
my chiefs. The grief of that noble old man
would have melted a harder heart than mine,
and I readily made him the required promise.
The notes were duly counted out and the
exchange effected, and it was with a sigh of relief
that I secured the true bank-paper under lock
and key in my stout black leather pocket-book.
As I did so, M. Krantz held out his hand and
shook mine heartily, and announced his intention
of returning home at once, without repose, to
complete his arrangements for the reformation
of his misguided boy. He at once rang the bell
and ordered his horses to be got ready. In
half an hour we parted company, with thanks
and blessings on the old merchant's part.

"Old Jorn Krantz is your friend for life,
remember," he said, as he threw his cloak over
his shoulders and stepped into the carriole;
"but how very fortunate it was that I overtook
you as I did!"

I thought, so too. Very likely the ultimate
loss of the money might have been prevented;
but delay, scandal, and annoyance, with probable
litigation, were evils almost as bad; and I secretly
congratulated myself on the lucky chance of my
detention at the Nyeborg ferry. Next morning
I crossed without difficulty, and before nightfall
was at Copenhagen. Naturally, my thoughts
dwelt much on my painful interview with the
aged merchant, whose conduct appeared to me
admirable. There was, however, one thing
about M. Krantz that puzzled me. It seemed
to me as if I had seen him before. Not his face.
That was wholly unknown to me, but his
figure: that tall, erect, and yet supple form, with
rather a peculiar carriage of the head. It seemed
strangely familiar to me, especially when the
merchant had flung his cloak round him before
stepping into his carriage. I perplexed myself
on this score for some time.

On the day following I called at a bank which
the old merchant had recommended, and found, as
I had expected, the names of Krantz and Co. a
sufficient introduction. My Danish notes were
duly exchanged for good bills on London, and
for crisp promises to pay on the part of the Old
Lady of Threadneedle-street. I found the bankers
remarkably courteous and communicative, and
we parted very good friends, and I strolled up
and down the streets for a while, gazing at the
shop windows, full of curious ornaments and
quaint objects from Iceland, Sweden, and Russia;
at the fisherfolk, gorgeous in blue and red and
white, and resplendent in gilt frontlets and
jewelled earrings; at the rosy lasses from the
Scandinavian mainland, in their scarlet bodices
and high caps, staring with round-eyed curiosity
on the splendours of what seemed to them a
wonderful city, and chattering volubly to each
other in Norse or Swedish as they trotted past
with their milk-pails. But I was not long
allowed to play the part of a passive spectator.

I was in a glove-shop, buying a pair of number
eights of the so-called Swedish kid, under the
patronage of a smiling gloveress, whose
knowledge of English did not extend beyond the
words, "yes, very well," when I heard a
sound of running, and a clamour of voices, and
I looked out into the street. My appearance
was greeted with a shout of " The Englander
himself!"

One of the clerks from the bank I had so
lately left, breathless, flushed, and without his
hat, rushed in and caught me by the collar.
At his heels were several other men, porters and
messengers of the bank, most likely, but they
were accompanied by two policemen in uniform,
who followed the clerk's example in grasping me
roughly, gruffly uttering the words, " In the
name of the king and the law."

"Are you all mad? Let me go, you
blockheads, or you will repent this," cried I, angry
though amazed. I shook them off for a
mo-ment, but only to be clutched by so many
strong hands that resistance was impossible,
and I was dragged, with torn coat and
disordered cravat, in ignominious procession down
the street, the object of hooting from the crowd
that rapidly assembled. The abusive epithet
most frequently repeated was " Schwindler,"
and this was intelligible enough, though why it
should be applied to my unlucky self was a
mystery. The mystery was soon cleared up. I
was dragged into the bank, and confronted with
the bankers. The good-humoured partners
looked wrathful enough now. On the counter
lay a heap of notes, and I was sternly asked
whether I denied having paid in these notes
less than an hour before? I took a glance at
the numbers. The fact was undeniable. I
admitted it.

"You hear him? He confesses. He owns
to being the man who passed off these forged
notes," cried the banker, looking round on the
assembly; " after that, he may be taken before
the Correctional Tribunal at once."

"Forged notes! You do not surely mean— "
I began, but I grew quite faint and sick, and
I could not continue. They took my silence for
a proof of guilt, and no wonder! I was taken
before a commissary, or some such personage,
then before a judge of instruction, and was
fully committed for trial. That the notes I
had paid in were forgeries, there was no doubt.
All experts, including a clerk from the government
bank, were unanimous on that head. In
vain, rallying my bewildered faculties, I begged
for a private interview with the judge,
unwilling to tell the open court how and why
I had received the notes, and to suggest the
only conjecture that appeared possible to me:
namely, that by some strange mistake the
fictitious bank-paper had, for the second time,
been put up in my pocket-book. Refused this,
I could merely declare that I had received the