“Here I am, George, safe and sound—­ready to kiss the bridesmaids, if they will let me—­and I can find time—–­ bless me, Moseley!—­old marling-spike!—­general!—­whew, where is the coachman and guard?”—­it was Lord Henry Stapleton.  The Spaniard bowed again in silence and withdrew, while Denbigh threw open the door of an adjoining room and excused himself, as he desired Lord Henry to walk in there for a few minutes.

“Upon my word,” cried the heedless sailor, as he complied, “we might as well have stuck together, Moseley; we were bound to one port, it seems.”

“You know Lord Henry?” said John, as he withdrew.

“Yes,” said Denbigh, and he again required his address of Peter, which having been given, the steward departed.  The conversation between the two friends did not return to the course it was taking when they were interrupted, as Moseley felt a delicacy in making any allusion to the probable cause of his sister’s refusal.  He had, however, begun to hope it was not irremovable, and with the determination of renewing his visit in the morning, he took his leave, to allow Denbigh to attend to his other guest, Lord Henry Stapleton.

About twelve on the following morning, John and the steward met at the door of the hotel where Denbigh lodged, in quest of the same person.  The latter held in his hand the answer to his master’s letter, but wished particularly to see its writer.  On inquiring, to their mutual surprise they were told, that the gentleman had left there early in the morning, having discharged his lodgings, and that they were unable to say whither he had gone.  To hunt for a man without a clew, in the city of London, is usually time misspent Of this Moseley was perfectly sensible, and disregarding a proposition of Peter’s, he returned to his own lodgings.  The proposal of the steward, if it did not do much credit to his sagacity, was much in favor of his perseverance and enterprise.  It was no other than that John should take one side of the street, and he the other, in order to inquire at every house in the place, until the fugitive was discovered.  “Sir,” said Peter, with great simplicity, “when our neighbor White lost his little girl, this was the way we found her, although we went nearly through L——­ before we succeeded, Mr. John.”  Peter was obliged to abandon this expedient for want of an associate, and as no message was left at the lodgings of Moseley, he started with a heavy heart on his return to Benfield Lodge.  But Moseley’s zeal was too warm in the cause of his friend, notwithstanding his unmerited desertion, to discontinue the search for him.  He sought out the town residence of the Marquess of Eltringham, the brother of Lord Henry, and was told that both the Marquess and his brother had left town early that morning for his seat in Devonshire, to attend the wedding of their sister.

“Did they go alone?” asked John musing.

“There were two chaises, the Marquess’s and his Grace’s”