"It's a bore, I know, troubling a fellow with a story that he knows before; but I'll make mine short.

When I take my key, intending to send the note to pay the crown and quit-rents that you know--you--you--no matter--you know well enough must be paid, I open it so--and so--and look _there_, where I left it, for my note; and the note's gone--you understand, the note's _gone_!" Here was a pause, during which, under the Baronet's hard insulting eye, poor Feltram winced, and cleared his voice, and essayed to speak, but said nothing.
"It's gone, and we know where.

Now, Mr.Feltram, _I_ did not steal that note, and no one but you and I have access to this desk.

You wish to go away, and I have no objection to that--but d--n me if you take away that note with you; and you may as well produce it now and here, as hereafter in a worse place." "O, my good heaven!" exclaimed poor Feltram at last.

"I'm very ill." "So you are, of course.