Chapter M: Jean Valjean

The CHEVALIER STRONG. (Would he come in?)

_Hon. Secretary_.—DAVID CRIMP, Esq.

Archæological Adviser.—Dr. SPIEGELMANN, Berlin.

Then the prospectus! Treasure-hunting too long left to individual and uneducated enterprise. Need of organised and instructed effort. Examples of treasure easily to be had. Grave of Alaric. Golden chain of Cuzco. Galleons of Vigo Bay. Loot of Delphi. Straits of Salamis. Advice of most distinguished foreign experts already secured. Paid-up capital, a 6 and as many 0’s as the resources of the printing establishment can command. The public will rush in by the myriad. And I am also sketching a

‘Disinterested Association for Securing the Rights of Foundlings,’ again with Monte Cristo in the chair. David, you have saved a few pounds; in the confidence of unofficial moments you have confessed as much (though not exactly _how_ much) to me. Will you neglect one of those opportunities which only genius can discover, but which the humble capitalist can help to fructify? With thirty, nay, with twenty pounds, I can master this millionaire and tame this Earthly Providence. Behind us lies penury and squalor, before us glitters jewelled opulence. You will be at 1542 Park Lane to-morrow _with the dibs_?—Yours expectantly,

MONTAGUE TIGG.

* * * * *

_From Mr. David Crimp to Montague Tigg_, _Esq._

The Golden Balls, May 28.

DEAR MR. TIGG,—You always _were_ full of your chaff, but you must have been drinking when you wrote all that cock-and-a-bull gammon. Thirty pounds! No; nor fifteen; nor as many pence. I never heard of the party you mention by the name of the Count of Monte Cristo; and as for the Prince, he’s as likely to be setting out for Boulogne with an eagle as you are to start a monkey and a barrel-organ in Jericho; or may be _that’s_ the likeliest of the two. So stow your gammon, and spare your stamps, is my last word.—Yours respectfully to command,