"Well, really, I cannot say, such things do not interest me as deeply as they do you. Perhaps it's the Westport fashion."
"No; there's something wrong. He was evidently of a rank superior to the girl. I could tell that, both by their dress and air, and general appearance. I would like to get at the bottom of this mystery."
"Then why not see the minister who married them, and find out from him?"
"Well, for sundry reasons. First, I didn't see his face, and wouldn't know him if I stumbled over him. Second, it looks like a rascally, low-bred trick; this tracking them and playing the spy, that I should be ashamed to tell any one of it, but so old a friend as you."
"Well, then, never mind this mysterious couple any more," said Captain Campbell, impatiently; "but tell me what I had better do about this advertisement."
"Why, go and see this C. Ringdon, attorney-at-law, at once, that's all; I'll go with you; it's not ten minutes' walk from here."
"But if it should prove to be a humbug?" said Captain Campbell, as he sallied forth, arm-in-arm with Stafford.
"Then thrash C. Ringdon, attorney-at-law, within an inch of his life," said his pacific friend. "It's the only balm for a wounded mind I know of."
Captain Campbell laughed; and the conversation turned on various matters as they walked on.
In a short time they reached the office of C. Ringdon—a dingy-looking, old house, with his name over the door, in exceedingly dingy letters.