captain, of course, had a great deal to do on his first arrival
after a long absence, and could not, therefore, go in search of Mr Tom
Heathfield, Walter's cousin. Walter acknowledged that he was not likely
to find him himself, as he had but seldom been in London, and did not
know his way about. All he could tell was, that he lived somewhere in
the West End, and he thought he belonged to two or three clubs.

"Very likely, young gentleman," said the captain, laughing. "However,
when I can get hold of one of those books they call Court Guides, I may
be able to find him."

A week passed pleasantly enough away. Grace was very kind to Emily, and
Walter was never tired of walking about the docks, and watching the
large ships loading and unloading the bales and casks of goods coming
and going to all parts of the world. It gave him some idea of the vast
amount of commerce of London, when such a stream of merchandise was
coming in and going out all day long.

At length the captain told him that he had some hours to spare, and they
set off together to try and find Mr Heathfield. They got down at
Charing Cross, where a bookseller allowed them to look over a Court
Guide.

"Yes, that must be my cousin," said Walter, seeing the name. "I now
remember going there with my father. Yes, and those are the clubs he
belongs to."

Having put down the address, the captain and Walter at once set off to
find it. They were not long in getting there. A woman opened the door.

"Mr Heathfield is not in town; he seldom is at this time," was the
answer. "He may come up for a day, or he may not; but letters addressed
here will find him."

"But can you tell me where he is?" asked Walter. "I am a relation of
his."

"As to that, he may be at Newmarket, or some other races. You know he
is a sporting gentleman, and is likely to be in one place one day and in
another place another. But he sends for his letters, and, as I have
told you, if you like to write, one will find him."

This was not very satisfactory information.

"I am afraid he is not likely to do much for the poor children," thought
Captain Davenport. "However, there is nothing like trying."

He then bethought him that he would inquire the address of their uncle,
whose heart might relent when he heard of the death of his brother. "If
not, I will write to Lord Heatherly himself," said the captain.

The nobleman's address was easily found, and after some trouble the
c