was putting up his note at the time, he dropped something slyly into
it, no doubt to sweeten it; but I saw it all, and, when he handed
it to me, I said, with an emphasis which he might easily understand,
'There is some sediment in it, I'll not drink it.' 'Is there?' said
he, and at the same time snatched it from my hand and threw it into
the fire. What do you think of that? Have I not a tender bird in
hand? Win or lose, I will not play beyond five thousand to-night, and
to-morrow sees me safe out of the reach of Sir Arthur's Champagne."

Of the authenticity of this document, I never heard my father express
a doubt; and I am satisfied that, owing to his strong conviction
in favour of his brother, he would not have admitted it without
sufficient inquiry, inasmuch as it tended to confirm the suspicions
which already existed to his prejudice. Now, the only point in this
letter which made strongly against my uncle, was the mention of the
"double-clasped pocket-book," as the receptacle of the papers likely
to involve him, for this pocket-book was not forthcoming, nor anywhere
to be found, nor had any papers referring to his gaming transactions
been discovered upon the dead man.

But whatever might have been the original intention of this man,
Collis, neither my uncle nor my father ever heard more of him; he
published the letter, however, in Faulkner's newspaper, which was
shortly afterwards made the vehicle of a much more mysterious attack.
The passage in that journal to which I allude, appeared about four
years afterwards, and while the fatal occurrence was still fresh in
public recollection. It commenced by a rambling preface, stating that
"a _certain person_ whom _certain_ persons thought to be dead, was not
so, but living, and in full possession of his memory, and moreover,
ready and able to make _great_ delinquents tremble": it then went on