Carlton held his due-bills for "debts of honour," calling for various sums, amounting in all, as we have before said, to about two thousand dollars, and he was not a person at all likely to forget this fact.

Of this Wilkinson was made sensible, about an hour after appearing at his store.

He was at his desk musing over certain results figured out on a sheet of paper that lay before him, and which had reference to payments to be made during the next three or four weeks, when he heard his name mentioned, and, turning, saw a stranger addressing one of his clerks, who had just pointed to where he was sitting.

The man, with his unpleasant eyes fixed upon Wilkinson, came, with firm yet deliberate steps, back to his desk.
"Mr.Wilkinson, I believe ?" said he.
"That is my name." Wilkinson tried to feel self-possessed and indifferent.

But that was impossible, for he had an instinctive knowledge of the purport of the visit.
The man thrust his hand into a deep inside pocket, and abstracted therefrom a huge pocket-book.