The chief corner-stone suddenly found wanting in the glittering fabric of Mr Titmouse’s fortune, so that, to the eyes of its startled architects, Messrs Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, it seemed momentarily threatening to tumble about their ears, was a certain piece of evidence which, being a matter-of-fact man, I should like to explain to the reader, before we get on any further. In order, however, to do this effectually, I must go back to an earlier period in the history than has been yet called to his attention. I make no doubt, that by the superficial and impatient novel-reader, certain portions of what has gone before, and which could not fail of attracting the attention of long-headed people, as not likely to have been thrown in for nothing, (and therefore requiring to be borne in mind with a view to subsequent explanation), have been entirely overlooked or forgotten. However this may be, I can fancy that the sort of reader whom / have in my eye, as one whose curiosity it is worth some pains to excite, and sustain, has more than once asked himself the following question, viz.—

How did Messrs Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, first come to be acquainted with the precarious tenure by which Mr Aubrey held the Yatton property? —Why, it chanced in this wise.

Do you think me mad enough to beard a lion or try to outwit a Thrasymachus?

And here we must observe that men must either be cajoled or crushed; for they will revenge themselves for slight wrongs, while for grave ones they cannot. The injury therefore that you do to a man should be such that you need not fear his revenge.

The splendors of human pomp and prosperity seemed rapidly vanishing in the distance. In the temporary depression of his spirits, he experienced feelings somewhat akin to those of the heart-sickened exile, whose fond eyes are riveted upon the mosques and minarets of his native city, glittering in the soft sunlight of evening, where are the cherished objects of all his tenderest thoughts and feelings; while his vessel is rapidly bearing him from it, amid the rising wind, the increasing and ominous swell of the waters, the thickening gloom of night— whither?

In the name of all that is manly and generous

You may say it is not so easy to be wicked without ever being found out. Perhaps not; but great things are never easy.

Neither famine nor disaster ever haunt men who do true justice; but light-heartedly they tend the fields which are all their care. The earth bears them victual in plenty, and on the mountains their oaks bear acorns upon the top and bees in the middle, and their sheep’s fleeces are heavy with wool.

We must endow our man with the full complement of injustice; we must allow him to have secured a spotless reputation for virtue while committing the blackest crimes; he must be able to retrieve any mistake, to defend himself with convincing eloquence if his misdeeds are denounced, and, when force is required, to bear down all opposition by his courage and strength and by his command of friends and money.

Sir, no man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.

But as a man of sense you must understand that the way to reconquest cannot be easy. Those who wish no change may sit hugging their scruples forever.