ope! dispersed to the winds almost as soon as it was formed. For
the words had scarcely passed "the bulwark of my teeth," when Tom
appeared, looking excessively bloodshot in the eye. On inquiry, it
turned out that he, like the rest of us, remembered only the cabalistic
words which introduced the tale, but of the tale itself, nothing.

Tom had been educated at Edinburgh, and was strongly attached to what he
calls _metapheesicks_; and, accordingly, after rubbing his forehead, he
exclaimed--

"This is a psychological curiosity, which deserves to be developed. I
happen to have half a sovereign about me" (an assertion which, I may
remark in passing, excited considerable surprise in his audience), "and
I'll ask Harlow to dine with me at the Rainbow. I'll get the story out
of the Humpy rascal--and no mistake."

We acquiesced in the propriety of this proceeding; and Antony Harrison,
observing that he happened by chance to be disengaged, hooked himself on
Tom, who seemed to have a sort of national antipathy to such a ceremony,
with a talent and alacrity that proved him to be a veteran warrior, or
what, in common parlance, is called an old soldier.

Tom succeeded in getting Harlow to dinner, and Harrison succeeded in
making him pay the bill, to the great relief of Meggot's half sovereign,
and they parted at an early hour in the morning. The two Irishmen and
myself were at Ginger's shortly after breakfast; we had been part
occupied in tossing halfpence to decide which of us was to send out for
ale, when--Harrison and Meggot appeared. There was conscious confusion
written in their countenances. "Did Humpy Harlow tell you _that_ story?"
we all exclaimed at once.

"It cannot be denied that he did," said Meggot. "Precisely as the clock
struck eleven, he commenced with '_Humphries told me._'"

"Well--and what then?"

"Why, there it is," said Antony Harrison, "may I be drummed out if I can
recollect another word."

"Nor I," said Meggot.

The strangeness of this singular adventure made a deep impression on us
all. We were sunk in silence for some minutes, during which Jerry
Gallagher made his appearance with the ale, which I omitted to mention
had been lost by Joe Macgillicuddy. We sipped that British beverage,
much abstracted in deep thought. The thing appeared to us perfectly
inscrutable. At last I said, "This never will do--we cannot exist much
longer in this atmosphere of doubt and uncertainty. We must have it out
of Harlo