There was even a pleasing expression in the young man's face that was really attractive. His chestnut locks of silken hair clustering in luxuriant ringlets were indeed the envy of the many less favored youth, while the hazel dreamy eyes, soft and expressive as a woman's, seemed to suggest that they had once been the pride of an indulgent mother and kind friends.
"Zounds, Tracy my fellow, you're going all to sticks! What the devil is up? Why, you look as if you had been trailed through seven cities—got the blues,—eh?"
"Worse than that, Turpin. I'm in a fair way for the Old Bailey."
"The deuce you are!" exclaimed the latter, who owing to several sharp feats performed upon some members of the club, was dubbed Turpin.
Mr. Turpin was a lucky kind of mortal who had a propensity for living on the funds of his more fortunate friends and always kept an eye to Mr. Tracy.
The latter was lavish in expenditure and thought it a streak of luck to have an individual like Turpin to cater to his caprice and assist in making his every day life free from remorse or anything approaching to it.
"'Jordan is a hard road to travel,' eh Dick?" said Hubert Tracy as he raised the cocktail to view and stood gazing upon it, then swallowing the contents, as if anxious to get through the job, exclaimed, "Heavens Dick, I wish that were the last drink on this side of Jordan," and after a desperate effort to appear at ease the young man left his rollicking set and sought his apartments in Regent Square.
CHAPTER XXV.
MR. SPRIGGINS INTERVIEWS MR. VERNE.
While Mr. Verne sat in his office in Water street, busy as usual on his exchanges, etc, an individual was making his way thither at a rapid gait, which, in fact, bore more closely to business than grace.