oused himself and went out
to begin his round of the hotels.

A surly fly-driver of unknown age and prodigious deafness carried him
from house to house; first to all the principal places of entertainment,
aristocratic, family, and commercial; then to more obscure taverns and
boarding-houses, until the sun was high and the commerce of Liverpool in
full swing; and at all these places Gilbert questioned night-porters,
and chief waiters, and head chamber-maids, until his brain grew dizzy by
mere repetition of his questions; but no positive tidings could he obtain
of John Saltram. There was a coffee-house near the quay where it seemed
just possible that he had slept; but even here the description was of the
vaguest, and the person described might just as well have been John Smith
as John Saltram. Gilbert dismissed the fly-man and his vehicle at last,
thoroughly wearied out with that morning's work.

He went to one of the hotels, took a hasty breakfast, and then hurried
off to the offices belonging to the owners of the _Oronoco_.

That vessel had started for New York at nine o'clock on the previous
morning, and John Saltram had gone with her. His name was the last on the
list of passengers; he had only taken his passage an hour before the
steamer left Liverpool, but there his name was in black and white. The
names of Percival Nowell, and of Mrs. Holbrook, his daughter, were also
in the list. The whole business was clear enough, and there was nothing
more that Gilbert could do. Had John Saltram been strong and well, his
friend would have felt nothing but satisfaction in the thought that he
was going in the same vessel with Marian, and would without doubt bring
her back in triumph. But the question of his health was a painful one to
contemplate. Could he, or could he not endure the strain that he had put
upon himself within the last eight-and-forty hours? In desperate straits
men can do desperate things--there was always that fact to be remembered;
but still John Saltram might break down under the burden he had taken
upon himself; and when Gilbert went back to London that afternoon he was
sorely anxious about this feeble traveller.

He found a letter from him at the lodgings in Wigmore-street; a hurried
letter written at Liverpool the night before John Saltram's departure. He
had arrived there too late to get on board the _Oronoco_ that night, and
had ascertained that the vessel was to leave at nine next morning.

"I shall