se I know French," says the other; "but what's the meaning of
this?"

"Screwcome came back by the five o'clock train. I was in it, and his
royal highness would scarcely speak to me. Took Brown's fly from the
station. Brown won't enrich his family much by the operation," says Mr.
Potts.

"But what do I care?" cries Jack Harris; "we don't attend him, and we
don't lose much by that. Howell attends him, ever since Vidler and he
had that row."

"Hulloh! I say, it's a mistake," cries Mr. Taplow, smoking in his chair.
"This letter is for the party in the Benbow. The gent which the Prince
spoke to him, and called him Jack the other day when he was here. Here's
a nice business, and the seal broke, and all. Is the Benbow party
gone to bed? John, you must carry him in this here note." John, quite
innocent of the note and its contents, for he that moment had entered
the clubroom with Mr. Potts's supper, took the note to the Benbow,
from which he presently returned to his master with a very scared
countenance. He said the gent in the Benbow was a most harbitrary gent.
He had almost choked John after reading the letter, and John wouldn't
stand it; and when John said he supposed that Mr. Harris in the
Boscawen--that Mr. Jack Harris, had opened the letter, the other gent
cursed and swore awful.

"Potts," said Taplow, who was only too communicative on some occasions
after he had imbibed too much of his own brandy-and-water, "it's my
belief that that party's name is no more Harris than mine is. I have
sent his linen to the wash, and there was two white pocket-handkerchiefs
with H. and a coronet."

On the next day we drove over to Newcome, hoping perhaps to find that
Lord Highgate had taken the warning sent to him and quitted the place.
But we were disappointed. He was walking in front of the hotel, where a
thousand persons might see him as well as ourselves.

We entered into his private apartment with him, and there expostulated
upon his appearance in the public street, where Barnes Newcome or any
passer-by might recognise him. He then told us of the mishap which had
befallen Florac's letter on the previous night.

"I can't go away now, whatever might have happened previously: by this
time that villain knows that I am here. If I go, he will say I was
afraid of him, and ran away. Oh, how I wish he would come and find me!"
He broke out with a savage laugh.

"It is best to run away," one of us interposed sadly.

"Pendennis," he