"I come to you, sir, relative to an advertisement which appeared in the papers. I refer to this," continued I, putting the newspaper down on the desk, and pointing to the advertisement.
"Oh, yes, very true: can you give us any information?"
"Yes, sir, I can, and the most satisfactory."
"Then, sir, I am sorry that you have had so much trouble, but you must call at Lincoln's Inn upon a lawyer of the name of Masterton: the whole affair is now in his hands."
"Can you, sir, inform me who is the party that is inquiring after this young man?"
"Why, yes; it is a General De Benyon, who has lately returned from the East Indies."
"Good God! is it possible!" thought I; "how strange that my own wild fancy should have settled upon him as my father!"
I hurried away, threw myself into the hackney-coach, and desired the man to drive to Lincoln's Inn. I hastened up to Mr Masterton's rooms: he was fortunately at home, although he stood at the table with his hat and his great coat on, ready to go out.
"My dear sir, have you forgotten me?" said I, in a voice choked with emotion, taking his hand and squeezing it with rapture.
"By heavens, you are determined that I shall not forget you for some minutes, at least," exclaimed he, wringing his hand with pain. "Who the devil are you?"