“There’s your pay, Mister Rokesmith,” said the Golden Dustman, jerking the folded scrap of paper he had in his hand, towards his late Secretary. “I dare say you can stoop to pick it up, after what you have stooped to here.”

“I have stooped to nothing but this,” Rokesmith answered as he took it from the ground; “and this is mine, for I have earned it by the hardest of hard labour.”

“You’re a pretty quick packer, I hope,” said Mr. Boffin; “because the sooner you are gone, bag and baggage, the better for all parties.”

“You need have no fear of my lingering.”

“There’s just one thing though,” said Mr. Boffin, “that I should like to ask you before we come to a good riddance, if it was only to show this young lady how conceited you schemers are, in thinking that nobody finds out how you contradict yourselves.”