such in the books. Therefore it was that,
besides my actual salary and what I could save—
very little indeed—out of my travelling
expenses, I had not made a sixpence for
three months. I had a home in London. On
the strength of my traveller's appointment, I had
married, and I now rented a small house in
Bayswater. My wife's portion was not very
large: being merely the furniture of the house
we lived in—strictly settled upon herself by
her father—and a small annuity of thirty
pounds a year, which she had in her own
right. When I gave the tailor the promissory
notes, I fully expected, as every man who is in
debt does, to settle them at the proper time.
I could not do this, and when the first was a
couple of days over-due, my creditor issued
execution against me, and arrested me.

We were at breakfast one morning. It was
a Saturday, and I hoped to pass Sunday with
my family, get off by a very early train on the
Monday to the district where I travelled, and
thus dodge my creditor for a month or so, until
"something should turn up" which would
enable me to pay him. I knew that as the
furniture of my house was all settled on my
wife, my family could not be worried during
my absence; and as matters were beginning to
look better in the iron trade, there was some
hope, as I imagined, that I should be able to
pay off these notes of hand. A knock came
at the door, and I heard a man's voice asking
for me.

"Very important business from his
employers. Must see Mr. Smith immediately;"
I heard some one say this to the servant.

Thinking that it was some message from
Grumston, Foxley, and Grumston, wholesale
grocers, of St. Mary-axe, my much-respected
masters, I went up-stairs. We were in the
breakfast-parlour, on the basement story. I
met in the hall a vulgar, smirking, insolvent,
petty tradesman looking man, with a strong
smack of the betting sharper and a dash of the
out-of-place valet about him.

"Very sorry indeed, sir," he began, "but got
a most disagreeable duty to perform. Warrant
to arrest your person, sir. Suit of Thomas
Griffin, tailor, 64, Letsom-road, Bayswater;
debt, twenty-four pounds ten shillings and
fourpence; costs, four pounds eight shillings and
sixpence. You will have to come with me,
sir."

I was so taken aback that I did not know
what to say. That very morning I was to have
met old Foxley, the managing partner of our
firm, and given an account of my stewardship
for the past fortnight. I knew that he was
no friend of mine, and that if this arrest
kept me away for a week or so, he would
be glad to discharge me, and give my berth
to young Glimpson, the assistant-cashier, who
was the son of a friend of his, and was,
besides, very spooney on the youngest Miss
Foxley. At first—only for a moment, however
—the thought came across me to pay this debt
out of the money belonging to the firm which I
had in my pocket, amounting to some six
hundred and thirty pounds in notes and cheques,
and make out some excuse for being twenty-
four pounds or twenty-six pounds short in my
accounts. But the temptation fled. I asked
the officer to step into the drawing-room while
I broke the news to my wife. He declared
that he must not lose sight of me for a single
instant, and, indeed, required me to accompany
him to the front door, where he called in a
greater ruffian than himself—a big burly man,
looking like a retired publican or a bankrupt
prizefighter.

"This is my mate," said officer number one,
and my mate immediately took a seat in the
hall, and commenced sponging his face with a
dirty pocket-handkerchief. I remember even in
the middle of my worry, and as I considered
how the business was to be broken to my wife,
wondering where this fellow bought a red and
white cotton pocket-handkerchief, and why, on
a very cool day in November, he was perspiring
at every pore of his red face. He wore, I
remember very well, a knitted sort of waistcoat, or
Jersey—an article called, in the cheap linen-
drapers' shops, a Cardigan. I recollect thinking
that this was the first garment of the kind
I had ever seen, and asking myself when, or if
ever, the very dirty white hat he wore had been
new?

But I had something much more important
to think about, than the clothes of an assistant
sheriff's officer. I called up my wife, told her
what had happened, and that I must go with
this man. I then made over to her the little
book in which I kept my cash account with
the firm of Grumston, and which I had, very
fortunately, made out the night before, down
to the last sixpence. It showed a balance
against me, after deducting all my travelling
expenses and commissions, of six hundred and
ten pounds. As I had six hundred and nineteen
pounds in cheques and cash about me,
it followed that nine pounds of this was my
own. I told my wife to make the best of
her way to Grumston's counting-house at once,
ask to see old Foxley, deliver over to him the
money and the account-book, and to say that
I was unwell, and would not be able to leave
the house for a few days. "Say your husband
has got the ca. sa. fever, marm," joked
sheriff's officer number one; but I immediately
told him to hold his tongue. I then asked
him where he was to take me to, and he said
it was optional with me whether I would go
to Whitecross-street prison at once, or stay a
few days in "Bream's-buildings," off Chancery,
lane, the well-known sponging-house. At the
latter place I should be much more comfortable,
have a bedroom to myself, besides being able
to see as many friends as I liked, and up to
any hour; but it would be much more
expensive. At Whitecross-street the eating and
drinking would cost about three shillings a day;
at Bream's-buildings board and lodging would
be a guinea a day, and all drink extra. What
decided me to go to Bream's-buildings was, that