From that day forward, his life was spent in demanding money and
waiting for it. He employed in quick succession every pretext
that could soften the hearts of obdurate relatives, or find the
way to the most closely guarded cash-box. He was ill--he had
contracted a debt of honor--he had imprudently lent money to an
unscrupulous friend--he was about to be arrested for debt. And in
accordance with the favorable or unfavorable character of the
replies his manner became humble or impertinent, so that his
friends soon learned to judge very accurately of the condition of
his purse by the way he wore his mustaches. He became wise with
experience, however; and on adding all the sums he had received
together, he decided that his family must be very rich to allow
him so much money. And this thought made him anxious to fathom
the mystery of his birth and his infancy. He finally persuaded
himself that he was the son of a great English nobleman--a member
of the House of Lords, who was twenty times a millionaire. And he
more than half believed it when he told his creditors that his
lordship, his father, would some day or other come to Paris and
pay all his debts. Unfortunately it was not M. Wilkie's noble
father that arrived, but a letter from M. Patterson, which was
couched as follows:
"MY DEAR SIR, a considerable sum was placed in my hands to meet
your unexpected requirements; and in compliance with your repeated
appeals, I have remitted the entire amount to you.
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