"Colonel Cockburn, sir?" was the answer to his inquiry. "I don't think he is in town."
"Not in town!" cried Charles, his ardour suddenly damped. "Why do you think that?"
"He has not been here for a day or two, sir: so we conclude he is either absent or ill. The colonel is sometimes laid up with gout for a week together."
"Can you tell me where he lives? I'll go and see him."
"In St. James's Street," replied the man, giving at the same time the number of the house.
To St. James's Street proceeded Charles, found the house in which the colonel occupied rooms, and saw the landlady. Colonel Cockburn was at Bath: had gone to stay with a brother who was lying there ill.
"What a dreadful bother!" thought Charles. "Cockburn must have a whole regiment of brothers!" And he stood in indecision.
"Will the colonel be back soon?" inquired he.
"I don't know at all," was the landlady's answer. "Should he be detained in Bath, he may not come back before October. The colonel always leaves London the end of July. Sometimes he leaves earlier than that."
"What on earth am I to do?" cried Charles, half aloud, his vivid hopes evaporating considerably. "My business with him was urgent."