“That alters the affair,” the man said gravely.  “It will add to your danger; for as you know him, I suppose he knows you, also.”

“No.  It is four years since we met, and I have so greatly changed, in that time, that I have no fear he would recognize me.  At any rate, not here in London, which is the last place he would suspect me of being in.”

“That is better.  Well, sir, if that be your object, I will do my best to help you.  What is the fellow’s name and description?”

“He called himself Nicholson, when we last met; but like enough that is not his real name, and if it is, he may be known by another here.  He is a lanky knave, of middle height; but more than that, except that he has a shifty look about his eyes, I cannot tell you.”

“And his condition, you say, is changeable?”

“Very much so, I should say.  I should fancy that, when in funds, he would frequent places where he could prey on careless young fellows from the country, like myself.  When his pockets are empty, I should say he would herd with the lowest rascals.”

“Well, sir, as you say he is in funds at present, we will this evening visit a tavern or two, frequented by young blades, some of whom have more money than wit; and by men who live by their wits and nothing else.  But you must not be disappointed, if the search prove a long one before you run your hare down, for the indications you have given me are very doubtful.  He may be living in Alsatia, hard by the Temple, which, though not so bad as it used to be, is still an abode of dangerous rogues.  But more likely you may meet him at the taverns in Westminster, or near Whitehall; for, if he has means to dress himself bravely, it is there he will most readily pick up gulls.

“I will, with your permission, take you to the better sort to begin with, and then, when you have got more accustomed to the ways of these places, you can go to those a step lower, where, I should think, he is more likely to be found; for such fellows spend their money freely, when they get it, and unless they manage to fleece some young lamb from the country, they soon find themselves unable to keep pace with the society of places where play runs high, and men call for their bottles freely.  Besides, in such places, when they become unable to spend money freely, they soon get the cold shoulder from the host, who cares not to see the money that should be spent on feasting and wine diverted into the pockets of others.

“I shall leave you at the door of these places.  I am too well known to enter.  I put my hand on the shoulder of too many men, during the year, for me to go into any society without the risk of someone knowing me again.”