“Yes, sir.” Grandfather Smallweed rubs his legs. “He is a fine young soldier now, Mr. George, by the name of Carstone. Friends came forward and paid it all up, honourable.”

“Did they?” returns Mr. George. “Do you think your friend in the city would like a piece of advice?”

“I think he would, my dear friend. From you.”

“I advise him, then, to do no more business in that quarter. There’s no more to be got by it. The young gentleman, to my knowledge, is brought to a dead halt.”