Foul Play
inquired Adams of the elder merchant. 

 "I dare say I did. Did you discount one signed by me?" 

 "Yes, sir, we did." 

 "Well, sir, you have only to present it at maturity. Wardlaw & Son will provide for it, I dare say." This with the lofty nonchalance of a rich man who had never broken an engagement in his life. 

 "Ah, that I know they will if it is all right; but suppose it is not?" 

 "What d'ye mean?" asked Wardlaw, with some astonishment. 

 "Oh, nothing, sir! It bears your signature, that is good for twenty times the amount; and it is indorsed by your cashier. Only what makes me a little uneasy, your bills used to be always on your own forms, and so I told my partner; he discounted it. Gentlemen, I wish you would just look at it." 

 "Of course we will look at it. Show it Arthur first; his eyes are younger than mine." 

 Mr. Adams took out a large bill-book, extracted the note of hand, and passed it across the table to Wardlaw junior. He took it up with a sort of shiver, and bent his head very low over it; then handed it back in silence. 

 Adams took it to Wardlaw senior and laid it before him by the side of Arthur's Testamur. 

 The merchant inspected it with his glasses. 

 "The writing is mine, apparently." 

 "I am very glad of it," said the bill-broker, eagerly. 

 "Stop a bit," said Mr. Wardlaw. "Why, what is this? For two thousand pounds! and, as you say, not my form. I have signed no note for two thousand pounds this week. Dated yesterday. You have not cashed it, I hope?" 

 "I am sorry to say my partner has." 

 "Well, sir, not to keep you in suspense, the thing is not worth the stamp it is written on." 

 "Mr. Wardlaw!—Sir!—Good heavens! Then it is as I feared. It is a forgery." 

 "I should be puzzled to find any other name for it. You need not look so pale, 
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