They accordingly made their way down to Westminster, and Charlie visited several taverns.  At each he called for wine, and was speedily accosted by one or more men, who perceived that he was a stranger, and scented booty.  He stated freely that he had just come up to town, and intended to stay some short time there.  He allowed himself to be persuaded to enter the room where play was going on, but declined to join, saying that, as yet, he was ignorant of the ways of town, and must see a little more of them before he ventured his money, but that, when he felt more at home, he should be ready enough to join in a game of dice or cards, being considered a good hand at both.

After staying at each place about half an hour, he made his way out, getting rid of his would-be friends with some little difficulty, and with a promise that he would come again, ere long.

For six days he continued his inquiries, going out every evening with his guide, and taking his meals, for the most part, at one or other of the taverns, in hopes that he might happen upon the man of whom he was in search.  At the end of that time, he had a great surprise.  As he entered the hotel to take supper, the waiter said to him: 

“There is a gentleman who has been asking for you, in the public room.  He arrived an hour ago, and has hired a chamber.”

“Asking for me?” Charlie repeated in astonishment.  “You must be mistaken.”

“Not at all, sir.  He asked for Mr. Charles Conway, and that is the name you wrote down in the hotel book, when you came.”

“That must be me, sure enough, but who can be asking for me I cannot imagine.  However, I shall soon know.”

And, in a state of utter bewilderment as to who could have learnt his name and address, he went into the coffee room.  There happened, at the moment, to be but one person there, and as he rose and turned towards him, Charlie exclaimed in astonishment and delight: 

“Why, Harry, what on earth brings you here?  I am glad to see you, indeed, but you are the last person in the world I should have thought of meeting here in London.”

“You thought I was in a hut, made as wind tight as possible, before the cold set in, in earnest.  So I should have been, with six months of a dull life before me, if it had not been for Sir Marmaduke’s letter.  Directly my father read it through to me he said: 

“’Get your valises packed at once, Harry.  I will go to the colonel and get your leave granted.  Charlie may have to go into all sorts of dens, in search of this scoundrel, and it is better to have two swords than one in such places.  Besides, as you know the fellow’s face you can aid in the search, and are as likely to run against him as he is.  His discovery is as important to us as it is to him, and it may be the duke will be more disposed to interest himself, when he sees the son of his old friend, than upon the strength of a letter only.’