of their knives and forks and glasses.

The Polish lady sang "Cherry Ripe" to the infinite satisfaction of her
audience. Young Mowbray indeed, in the shape of Dandy Mick and some
of his followers and admirers, insisted on an encore. The lady as she
retired curtseyed like a Prima Donna; but the host continued on his
legs for some time, throwing open his coat and bowing to his guests, who
expressed by their applause how much they approved his enterprise. At
length he resumed his seat; "It's almost too much." he exclaimed; "the
enthusiasm of these people. I believe they look upon me as a father."

"And you think you have some clue to this Hatton?" resumed Stephen.

"They say he has no relations," said their host.

"I have heard as much."

"Another glass of the bar mixture, Master Gerard. What did we call it?
Oh! the bricks and beans--the Mowbray bricks and beans; known by that
name in the time of my grandfather. No more! No use asking Mr Morley
I know. Water! well, I must say--and yet, in an official capacity,
drinking water is not so unnatural."

"And Hatton." said Gerard; "they say he has no relations, eh?"

"They do, and they say wrong. He has a relation; he has a brother; and I
can put you in the way of finding him."

"Well, that looks like business," said Gerard; "and where may he be?"

"Not here," said their host; "he never put his foot in the Temple to my
knowledge; and lives in a place where they have as much idea of popular
institutions as any Turks or heathen you ever heard of."

"And where might we find him?" said Stephen.

"What's that?" said their host jumping up and looking around him. "Here
boys, brush about. The American gentleman is a whittling his name on
that new mahogany table. Take him the printed list of rules, stuck up
in a public place, under a great coat, and fine him five shillings for
damaging the furniture. If he resists (he has paid for his liquor), call
in the police; X. Z. No. 5 is in the bar, taking tea with your mistress.
Now brush."

"And this place is--"

"In the land of mines and minerals," said their host; "about ten miles
from ----. He works in metals on his own account. You have heard of
a place called Hell-house Yard; well, he lives there; and his name is
Simon."

"And does he keep up any communication with his brother, think you?"
said Gerard.

"Nay, I know no more; at least at present," said their host. "The
secretary asked me about a person absent without leave f