"The ganger! There must be some mistake," said Harley. "He writes me that it was engaged for one whose long services--"
"Services!" interrupted the other; "some paltry convenience to the baronet. A plague on all rogues! I shall but just drink destruction to them to-night and leave London to-morrow by sunrise."
"I shall leave it, too," said Harley; and so he accordingly did.
In passing through Piccadilly, he had observed on the window of an inn a notification of the departure of a stage-coach for a place on his road homewards; on the way back to his lodgings, he took a seat in it.
IV.--He Meets an Old Acquaintance
When the stage-coach arrived at the place of its destination, Harley, who did things frequently in a way different from what other people call natural, set out immediately afoot, having first put a spare shirt in his pocket and given directions for the forwarding of his portmanteau. It was a method of travelling which he was accustomed to take.
On the road, about four miles from his destination, Harley overtook an old man, who from his dress had been a soldier, and walked with him.
"Sir," said the stranger, looking earnestly at him, "is not your name Harley? You may well have forgotten my face, 'tis a long time since you saw it; but possibly you may remember something of old Edwards? When you were at school in the neighbourhood, you remember me at South Hill?"
"Edwards!" cried Harley, "O, heavens! let me clasp those knees on which I have sat so often. Edwards! I shall never forget that fireside, round which I have been so happy! But where have you been? Where is Jack? Where is your daughter?"
"'Tis a long tale," replied Edwards, "but I will try to tell it you as we walk."