ed me, and this is how I have
rewarded your faith." And the thought that Dorothy's father, of all men,
had served me thus, after what I had gone through, filled me with a
bitterness I had never before conceived. And when my brain became
clearer I reflected that Mr. Manners had had ample time to learn of my
disappearance from Maryland, and that his action had been one of design,
and of cold blood. But I gave to Dorothy or her mother no part in it.
Mr. Manners never had had cause to hate me, and the only reason I could
assign was connected with his Grace of Chartersea, which I dismissed as
absurd.

A few drops of rain warned me to seek shelter. I knew not where I was,
nor how long I had been walking the streets at a furious pace. But a
huckster told me I was in Chelsea; and kindly directed me back to Pall
Mall. The usual bunch of chairmen was around the hotel entrance, but I
noticed a couple of men at the door, of sharp features and unkempt dress,
and heard a laugh as I went in. My head swam as I stumbled up the stairs
and fumbled at the knob, when I heard voices raised inside, and the door
was suddenly and violently thrown open. Across the sill stood a big,
rough-looking man with his hands on his hips.

"Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant," he cried.

The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a wry
face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired,
resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the corner
perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man
disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were thrown
on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat across
the room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the rest:
"The lot of them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St. Martin's
Lane!"

In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the
haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the
confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes
Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and
looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted
with relief at sight of me.

"Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?" he cried. And turning
to the man confronting me, he added, "This gentleman will settle their
beggarly accounts."

Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me.

"Lik