of a Bank of England note always varied in number and date, "to make fraud more difficult"; while at Caen the note had already been passed out again. But by the time we reached Rouen we were in funds, and procuring two fresh notes we replenished our supply of golden geese.
Like all other pleasant things in life this simple idyllic existence, with its absence of sordid cares, its free, healthy occupation, and its assured ten pounds a week each, came to an end all too soon. It happened suddenly, and, I need hardly say, unexpectedly, at Rennes. Dunford had carried out his part of the business and retired. In the lightest-hearted manner possible I had followed him up, and with gay sallies and ingratiating address had depreciated the note to thirty-eight shillings, when an offensive-looking agent of the law rose from his lair behind the counter, and at the same moment a grotesque personage wearing a sword appeared in the doorway.
It is not necessary to go into the fullest details. Dunford, of course, like a craven traitor, fled at once, and I had the greatest possible difficulty in procuring the services of an advocate. I addressed myself to the representative of my native country, asking him to explain to the French authorities that if they persisted in their ludicrous mistake they would become contemptible in the eyes of the world, and requesting him to interest himself for my immediate release. His reply was to the effect that he was not interested. My lawyer advised me to abandon the plea that the transactions were a huge jest from beginning to end.
"But there is no other explanation of my innocence," I cried.
"That is true," he replied, "but you will get off rather lighter without it."
