the Aultoun do not get their letters in course."

"And why not, Solmes?" said his lordship.

"The old woman who keeps the little inn there, my lord, is on bad terms
with the post-mistress--the one will not send for the letters, and the
other will not dispatch them to the village; so, betwixt them, they are
sometimes lost or mislaid, or returned to the General Post-office."

"I wish that may not be the case of a packet which I expect in a few
days--it should have been here already, or, perhaps, it may arrive in
the beginning of the week--it is from that formal ass, Trueman the
Quaker, who addresses me by my Christian and family name, Francis
Tyrrel. He is like enough to mistake the inn, too, and I should be sorry
it fell into Monsieur Martigny's hands--I suppose you know he is in that
neighbourhood?--Look after its safety, Solmes--quietly, you understand;
because people might put odd constructions, as if I were wanting a
letter which was not my own."

"I understand perfectly, my lord," said Solmes, without exhibiting the
slightest change in his sallow countenance, though entirely
comprehending the nature of the service required.

"And here is a note will pay for postage," said the Earl, putting into
his valet's hand a bank-bill of considerable value; "and you may keep
the balance for occasional expenses."

This was also fully understood; and Solmes, too politic and cautious
even to look intelligence, or acknowledge gratitude, made only a bow of
acquiescence, put the note into his pocketbook, and assured his lordship
that his commands should be punctually attended to.

"There goes the agent for my money, and for my purpose," said Lord
Etherington, exultingly; "no extorting of confidence, no demanding of
explanations, no tearing off the veil with which a delicate manoeuvre is
_gaze_--all excuses are received as _argent comptant_, provided only,
that the best excuse of all, the _argent comptant_ itself, come to
recommend them.--Yet I will trust no one--I will out, like a skilful
general, and reconnoitre in person."

With this resolution, Lord Etherington put on his surtout and cap, and
sallying from his apartments, took the way to the bookseller's shop,
which also served as post-office and circulating library; and being in
the very centre of the parade, (for so is termed the broad terrace walk
which leads from the inn to the Well,) it formed a convenient
lounging-place for newsmongers and idlers of every descripti