George W. M. Reynolds - The Mysteries of London

As he passed through the crowd of his friend's creditors, many of whom were known to him, he addressed a few words in an off-hand and patronising manner to those whom he recognised at the moment.

"Fine day, Mr. Styles. How are Mrs. Styles and those dear children?" (Mr. Styles was an old batchelor.)—"Ah! Mr. Milksop, how are you? quite delighted to see you! Why, upon my word, you are getting quite stout." (Poor Mr. Milksop was as thin as a lath.) "But every thing prospers with you, I suppose!—Well, Mr. Chivers, how do you do? Any thing new on the Stock-Exchange? I believe you don't suffer much by this business of Tomlinson's, do you?"

"Only three thousand—that's all!" returned Mr. Chivers, with a smile which would have turned new milk sour.

"Oh! a mere song!" exclaimed Greenwood, tossing up his head. "Well, Vokes, are you here? you don't mean to say that you're wasting your time in this manner, eh?—Ah! Tullett, my good friend—delighted to see you. Why, how well you do look, to be sure!" (Mr. Tullett was in a rapid decline; and he "grinned horribly a ghastly smile" at this salutation.)

In this manner did Mr. Greenwood work his way through the crowd, until he reached the desk of the official assignee, by the side of whom he took a seat.

"Where's the bankrupt?" exclaimed the clerk of the court in a loud and imperious tone of voice, while Mr. Greenwood bestowed one of his patronising smiles upon the Commissioner.

"Here," replied Tomlinson; and he stood forward close by the witness-box.

He was pale and altered; and the marks of care and anxiety were visible upon his countenance. The glance he cast around him, as he took his stand in the presence of the Commissioner, was hurried and fearful:—he almost dreaded that the face of Michael Martin would meet his eyes as he thus hastily scanned the crowd by whom he was surrounded. But his alarm was without foundation: the old cashier was not there.

The examination of the bankrupt then commenced.

In answer to the questions put to him, he stated that had he delivered in to the assignees as full and complete a statement of his affairs as the loss of his books (which had been abstracted by the cashier at the time of the robbery) would permit.

Mr. Greenwood observed that the accounts were highly satisfactory, and would doubtless please every creditor present. It was, however, unfortunate that the estate would not pay a single farthing in the pound.

"Very unfortunate indeed," growled a creditor.

"I would much rather have heard that there was a dividend, than that the accounts are so very satisfactory," murmured another.

"Mr. Tomlinson's creditors cannot complain of him, your Honour," said Mr. Greenwood to the Commissioner: "on the contrary, they have every reason to be perfectly satisfied with him. He has given up every thing—"

"Why, there was nothing left to give up!" ejaculated Mr. Vokes.

"Nothing left to give up!" cried Mr. Greenwood, casting a stern glance upon the unfortunate creditor; "permit me, sir, as the trade-assignee duly chosen at the last meeting—permit me, sir, to inform you that there were the desks, counters, stools, and various fixtures of the bank—all of which Mr. Tomlinson surrendered in the most honourable and straightforward manner, and which have realized a hundred and eighty-one pounds, seventeen shillings, and sixpence, for the benefit of the estate."

"Well—and what has become of that sum?" demanded Mr. Vokes.

"Consumed by the expenses of the fiat ," answered Mr. Greenwood coolly. "But, as I was observing, your Honour, when I was interrupted—interrupted in a most indecent manner—the position of Mr. Tomlinson is a most honourable one—"

"Perhaps it is even enviable," said the consumptive creditor, drily.

"And I for one," added Mr. Greenwood, "shall certainly sign his certificate."

"Have no tidings been heard of the cashier who absconded?" inquired the Commissioner.

"None, sir," answered the official assignee and Mr. Greenwood simultaneously.

"What has become of the bankrupt's furniture at his private residence?" demanded a creditor.

"His landlord issued a distress for a year's rent the moment the bank stopped," answered Greenwood. "The amount due to this most hard-hearted and unfeeling landlord is a hundred and twenty pounds, and the furniture would not fetch more at an auction. I therefore, with the full concurrence of the official assignee, allowed that very harsh man to keep the goods."

A barrister, who had been retained for one of the creditors, then proceeded to examine Mr. Tomlinson.

"You allege that about ninety-four thousand pounds were abstracted from the bank by the fugitive cashier?"

"I do—or as nearly as I can guess."

"And yet, by this balance-sheet, I perceive that your liabilities are two hundred thousand pounds. Were you not insolvent when the robbery was perpetrated?"

"It would appear so, certainly."

"Then how do you account for that immense deficiency?"

"I can account for it in no other manner than by presuming that my cashier had carried on a systematic mode of plunder for some years past; but as I placed implicit reliance on him, I was never led to an investigation of my actual position."

"Do you mean to say that your cashier embezzled many thousand pounds every year?"

"I am afraid that such was the fact."

The barrister asked no farther questions.

Another opposing counsel interrogated the bankrupt relative to his affairs; but Tomlinson's replies were given in a manner which afforded no scope for suspicion.

Ah! none divined how much it cost that unhappy man thus to heap shame and infamy upon the head of a faithful old clerk, who had never wronged him of a shilling!

The case terminated by the declaration of the commissioner that the bankrupt had passed his second examination.

Tomlinson was glad to escape from the frightful ordeal to which his feelings had been subjected for two mortal hours; and, while he hurried home to conceal his emotions from every eye, and meditate upon his condition in private, Mr. Greenwood busied himself in obtaining signatures for his certificate. This was an easy matter to a man of the financier's powers of persuasion; and that very afternoon the names of four-fifths of the bankrupt's creditors were attached to the parchment which was to relieve him of all past embarrassments.

When Greenwood took the certificate to Tomlinson in the evening, he said, "My dear fellow, you will soon be a new man. In one-and-twenty days this document will have passed the Lord Chancellor and the Court of Review, and be duly registered in Basinghall Street. I will then lend you a thousand pounds, at only twenty per cent. , to start you as a stock-broker. You see how well I have managed your business. You have passed through the Court—and you have kept your furniture."

"Which I would have given up to my creditors, had you permitted me," said Tomlinson sorrowfully.

"Nonsense, my dear fellow! Never give away what you can keep by a little manœuvring. Your landlord can now withdraw his friendly seizure, and all will be well."

"Nothing will render me happy until I find out that poor old man who has so nobly, so generously sacrificed himself for me," observed Tomlinson in a tone of deep dejection. "What can have become of him?"

"Oh! do not bother yourself about him," cried Greenwood impatiently. "He will turn up one of these days; and then you can remunerate him handsomely."

"Ah! that would indeed be a moment of supreme happiness for me!" ejaculated Tomlinson.

"Yes," continued Greenwood, musing: "a five-pound note will recompense the old fellow well for his conduct."

"A five-pound note!" repeated Tomlinson. "Can you be in earnest, Greenwood?"

"Well, if you think it is too much, give him a couple of sovereigns," said Greenwood, coolly. "But I must take leave of you now: I am compelled to devote a couple of hours this evening to the interests of that free and enlightened body whom I have the honour to represent in parliament. So, adieu, Tomlinson; and when your certificate is registered, come to me."