A few minutes' consideration satisfied me that the police were concerned in Bubbleton's movements, and, knowing at once that no danger was to be apprehended from such a source, were merely holding him up for some occasion when they could make use of him to found some charge against the British Government,—a manoeuvre constantly employed, and always successful with the Parisians, wherever an explanation became necessary in the public papers.
It would have served no purpose to impart these suspicions of mine to Bubbleton himself; on the contrary, he would inevitably have destroyed all clew to their confirmation by some false move, had I done so. With this impression, then, I resolved to wait patiently, watch events, and when the time came, see what best could be done towards effecting his liberation.
As I was disposed to place more reliance on Miss Bubbleton's statements than those of her imaginative brother, I agreed to his proposal to pay her a visit; and accordingly we set out together for the Rue Neuve des Capucines.
Lieutenant-General Bubbleton's quarters were by no means of that imposing character which befitted his rank in the British army. Traversing a dirty courtyard strewed with firewood, we entered a little gloomy passage, from which a still gloomier stair ascended to the topmost regions of the house, where, unlocking a door, he pushed me before him into a small, meanly-furnished apartment, the centre of which was occupied by a little iron stove, whose funnel pierced the ceiling above, and gave the chamber somewhat the air of a ship's cabin. Bubbleton, however, either did not or would not perceive any want of comfort or propriety in the whole; on the contrary, he strode the floor with the step of an emperor, and placed the chair for me to sit on as though he were about to seat me on a throne. While exchanging his coat for a most ragged dressing-gown, he threw himself on an old sofa with such energy of ease that the venerable article of furniture creaked and groaned in every joint.
“She's out,” said he, with a toss of his thumb to a half-open door; “gone to take a stroll in the Tuileries for half an hour, so that we shall have a little chat before she comes. And now, what will ye take? A little sherry and water? a glass of maraschino, eh? or what say you to a nip of real Nantz?”
“Nothing, my dear friend; you forget the hour, not to speak of my French education.”
“Oh, very true,” said he. “When I was in the Forty-fifth—” When he had uttered these words, he stopped suddenly, hesitated, and stammered, and at last, fairly overcome with confusion, he unfolded a huge pocket-handkerchief, and blew his nose with the sound of a cavalry trumpet, while he resumed: “We had a habit in the old Forty-fifth—a deuced bad one, I confess—of a mess breakfast, that began after parade and always ran into luncheon—But hush! here she comes,” cried he, in evident delight at the interruption so opportunely arriving. Then, springing up, he threw open the door, and called out, “I say, Anna Maria, you 'll not guess who's here?”
Either the ascent of the steep stair called for all the lady's spare lungs, or the question had little interest for her, as she certainly made no reply whatever, but continued to mount, step by step, with that plodding, monosyllabic pace one falls into at the highest of six flights.
“No,” cried he aloud, “no, you're wrong; it is not Lauderdale.” Then, turning towards me, with a finger to his nose, he added, with pantomimic action, “She thinks you are Yarmouth. Wrong again, by Jove! What do you say to Tom Burke,—Burke of 'Ours.' as I used to call him long ago?”
By this time Miss Bubbleton had reached the door, and was holding the handle to recover her breath after the fatigue of the ascent. Even in that momentary glance, however, I recognized her. Nothing altered by time, she was the same crabbed, crossgrained-looking personage I remembered years before. She carried a little basket on her arm, of which her brother hastened to relieve her, and showed no little concern to remove out of sight. Being divested of this, she held out her hand, and saluted me with more cordiality than I looked for.