there must be eight and twenty hundred pounds, if there's a penny.'

'Two seven six four, I think,' replied the gentlemanly man; 'but it was drawn yesterday.'

'Drawn!' cried Morris.

'By your uncle himself, sir,' continued the other. 'Not only that, but we discounted a bill for him for—let me see—how much was it for, Mr. Bell?'

'Eight hundred, Mr. Judkin,' replied the teller.

'Dent Pitman!' cried Morris, staggering back.

'I beg your pardon,' said Mr. Judkin.

'It's—it's only an expletive,' said Morris.

'I hope there's nothing wrong, Mr. Finsbury,' said Mr. Bell.

'All I can tell you,' said Morris, with a harsh laugh,' is that the whole thing's impossible. My uncle is at Bournemouth, unable to move.'

'Really!' cried Mr. Bell, and he recovered the cheque from Mr. Judkin. 'But this cheque is dated in London, and to-day,' he observed. 'How d'ye account for that, sir?'

'Oh, that was a mistake,' said Morris, and a deep tide of colour dyed his face and neck.

'No doubt, no doubt,' said Mr. Judkin, but he looked at his customer enquiringly.

'And—and—' resumed Morris, 'even if there