It is a common saying, that a certain place is paved with good intentions;330 if this be true, I assuredly accomplished a small square of mosaic work on the night which I have just concluded in the former chapter. But when I arose on the following morning, a new and more comfortable course of re ection presented itself to me. And now I began, for the rst time, to ask myself, Who is Misty? – what is he? – employed in what avocation? – engaged in what pursuit? Was it likely, I began to think, that he could hand me over a ten pound note, unless there were some extraordinary motive to suggest that proceeding? It was clear that he was a successful sharper, eager for a monopoly, and consequently jealous of an incipient rival. He had attempted to ‘buy me o ,’ but it wouldn’t do.