s,--though it is only
the lip that smiles, not the eye."

"Exactly as you say; you have seen him, then?"

"Why, I am not sure, since you say his name is Gower."

"He says his name is Gower," returned Lord Castleton, dryly, as he
inhaled the Beaudesert mixture.

"And where is he now,--with Mr. Trevanion?"

"Yes, I believe so. Ah! here we are--Fudge & Fidget! But perhaps," added
Lord Castleton, with a gleam of hope in his blue eye,--"perhaps they are
not at home!"

Alas! that was an illusive "imagining," as the poets of the nineteenth
century unaffectedly express themselves. Messrs. Fudge & Fidget were
never out to such clients as the Marquis of Castleton; with a deep
sigh, and an altered expression of face, the Victim of Fortune slowly
descended the steps of the carriage.

"I can't ask you to wait for me," said he; "Heaven only knows how long
I shall be kept! Take the carriage where you will, and send it back to
me."

"A thousand thanks, my dear lord, I would rather walk. But you will let
me call on you before I leave town."

"Let you!--I insist on it. I am still at the old quarters,--under
pretence," said the marquis, with a sly twinkle of the eyelid, "that
Castleton House wants painting!"

"At twelve to-morrow, then?"

"Twelve to-morrow! Alas! that's just the hour at which Mr. Screw, the
agent for the London property (two squares, seven streets, and a lane!)
is to call."

"Perhaps two o'clock will suit you better?"

"Two! just the hour at which Mr. Plausible, one of the Castleton
members, insists upon telling me why his conscience will not let him
vote with Trevanion!"

"Three o'clock?"

"Three! just the hour at which I am to see the secretary of the
Treasury, who has promised to relieve Mr. Plausible's conscience! But
come and dine with me,--you will meet the executors to the will!"

"Nay, Sir Sedley,--that is, my dear lord,--I will take my chance, and
look in after dinner."

"I do so; my guests are not lively! What a firm step the rogue has! Only
twenty, I think,--twenty! and not an acre of property to plague him!" So
saying, the marquis dolorously shook his head and vanished through the
noiseless mahogany doors behind which Messrs. Fudge & Fidget awaited the
unhappy man,--with the accounts of the great Castleton coal-mine.

CHAPTER VI.

On my way towards our lodgings I resolved to look in at a humble tavern,
in the coffee-room of which the Captain and myself habitually dined. It
was