"I am not in the habit of forgetting anything that a man of spirit
ought to remember," said the other--"I have the honor of wishing you a
good-morning."

The baronet withdrew in a passion that had risen to red heat, and was
proceeding to mount his horse at the door, when Counsellor Crackenfudge,
who had followed him downstairs, thus addressed him:

"I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas; I happened to be sitting in the
back-room while you were speaking to that strange fellow above; I pledge
you my honor I did not listen; but I could not help overhearing, you
know--well, Sir Thomas, I can tell you something about him."

"How!" said the baronet, whose eye I gleamed with delight--"Can you, in
truth, tell me anything about him, Mr. Crackenfudge? You will oblige me
very much if you do."

"I will tell you all I know about him, Sir Thomas," replied the worthy
counsellor; "and that is, that I know he has paid many secret visits to
Mr. Birney the attorney."

"To Birney!" exclaimed the other; and, as he spoke, he seemed actually
to stagger back a step or two, whilst the paleness of his complexion
increased to a hue that was ghastly--"to Birney!--to my blackest
and bitterest enemy--to the man who, I suspect, has important
family documents of mine in his possession. Thanks, even for this,
Crackenfudge--you are looking to become of the peace. Hearken now; aid
me in ferreting out this lurking scoundrel, and I shall not forget your
wishes." He then rode homewards.