Ripton, though he consented to inspect them, was positive they were not there.
"What have we here ?" said Mr.Thompson, seizing a neatly folded paper addressed to the Editor of a law publication, as Ripton brought them forth, one by one.

Forthwith Mr.Thompson fixed his spectacles and read aloud: "To the Editor of the 'Jurist.' "Sir,--In your recent observations on the great case of Crim"-- Mr.Thompson hem'd! and stopped short, like a man who comes unexpectedly upon a snake in his path.

Mr.Beazley's feet shuffled.

Sir Austin changed the position of an arm.
"It's on the other side, I think," gasped Ripton.
Mr.Thompson confidently turned over, and intoned with emphasis.
"To Absalom, the son of David, the little Jew usurer of Bond Court, Whitecross Gutters, for his introduction to Venus, I O U Five pounds, when I can pay.
"Signed: RIPTON THOMPSON." Underneath this fictitious legal instrument was discreetly appended: "(Mem.

Document not binding.)" There was a pause: an awful under-breath of sanctified wonderment and reproach passed round the office.