The man did as he was bid.  Directly he had left the room, Richard pulled down the window-blind, and staggered to a chair.  Perhaps want of food and sleep had weakened him; but he sat down, looking very pale and haggard, like one who has received a sudden shock.  Why should one man have answered him last night, “the convict ship,” and now this fellow have pointed out the jail?  It was only a coincidence, of course; but if there was ever such a thing as an evil augury, he had surely experienced it on those two occasions.  “This is what comes of burying one’s self at Gethin,” thought he, smiling faintly at his own folly.  “If I staid there much longer, I should begin to believe in mermaids and the Flying Dutchman.”  Jail!  Why, if the very worst should happen, the matter would only require to be explained; he was in no real peril from the law, after all.  Indeed, the very revelation which he most dreaded would only, by exposing the true state of affairs, precipitate his happiness.  Trevethick would then be as eager as himself to hasten Harry’s marriage.

Thus he reasoned until something of equanimity returned to him.  Then he attired himself, buttoning his frock-coat carefully over his chest, and went down stairs.  As he reached the next landing, a gentleman emerged from the room immediately beneath his own, like himself, fully dressed, and carrying his hat and great-coat.  He was a small stout man, with bushy red whiskers, a good-natured face, and little twinkling black eyes.  With a civil bow he made way for Richard to pass him, and then followed him down stairs into the coffee-room.  It was a huge apartment, and quite empty except for their two selves.  Most persons meeting in such a Sahara would have exchanged a salutation; and Richard, gregarious by nature besides, being eager to divert his thoughts, at once entered into conversation.

“You are the gentleman who arrived by the mail this morning, I conclude,” said he, “otherwise you would scarcely keep such early hours.”

“Just so, Sir,” answered the other, smiling.  “I thought it was not worth while to go to bed, but just gave myself a wash and brush up; and here I am, sharp-set for breakfast.”

It was plain this man was not a gentleman, but Richard cared very little about that.  He would have talked to the waiter, in default of any other companion.

“Well, I have been to bed,” said Richard, smiling, “though something I took at dinner disagreed with me, and kept me awake all night.  Do you mean to say you are not going to take any horizontal refreshment at all?”

“Well, no; I had some sleep in the coach, and a very little of that article does for me.  If you eat and drink enough, as I do, it is astonishing how well you can get on without rest.”

“Indeed,” said Richard.  “I should like to see the substitutes you take for what I have always found an indispensable necessity.  Suppose we have breakfast together, and you shall order it.”