y person who had sounded in his ear the earliest warning
note against that odious villain, whose daily work it was to destroy
the peace of families,--even Lady Milborough had turned against him!
Because he would not follow the stupid prescription which she, with
pig-headed obstinacy, persisted in giving,--because he would not
carry his wife off to Naples,--she was ill-judging and inconsistent
enough to tell him that he was wrong! Who was then left to him but
Bozzle? Bozzle was very disagreeable. Bozzle said things, and made
suggestions to him which were as bad as pins stuck into his flesh.
But Bozzle was true to his employer, and could find out facts. Had
it not been for Bozzle, he would have known nothing of the Colonel's
journey to Devonshire. Had it not been for Bozzle, he would never
have heard of the correspondence; and, therefore, when he left
London, he gave Bozzle a roving commission; and when he went to
Paris, and from Paris onwards, over the Alps into Italy, he furnished
Bozzle with his address. At this time, in the midst of all his
misery, it never occurred to him to inquire of himself whether
it might be possible that his old friends were right, and that
he himself was wrong. From morning to night he sang to himself
melancholy silent songs of inward wailing, as to the cruelty of his
own lot in life;--and, in the mean time, he employed Bozzle to find
out for him how far that cruelty was carried.

Mr. Bozzle was, of course, convinced that the lady whom he was
employed to watch was--no better than she ought to be. That is the
usual Bozzlian language for broken vows, secrecy, intrigue, dirt, and
adultery. It was his business to obtain evidence of her guilt. There
was no question to be solved as to her innocency. The Bozzlian mind
would have regarded any such suggestion as the product of a green
softness, the possession of which would have made him quite unfit for
his profession. He was aware that ladies who are no better than they
should be are often very clever,--so clever, as to make it necessary
that the Bozzles who shall at last confound them should be first-rate
Bozzles, Bozzles quite at the top of their profession,--and,
therefore, he went about his work with great industry and much
caution. Colonel Osborne was at the present moment in Scotland.
Bozzle was sure of that. He was quite in the north of Scotland.
Bozzle had examined his map, and had found that Wick, which was the
Colonel's post-town, was very