"Yes sir."
"I'll send you a post-office order for five shillings, if you'll find out all this, and let me know the particulars—address to me, No. 4, Waterloo Place, Wellington Road, Regent's Park, London. I've done every thing in my power to gain information according to the advice of Mrs M., but it's of no use. Let me know as soon as you discover any thing, and I'll send you the order by return of post."
"Coach is coming, sir," said the waiter.
"And I'm going; and very glad I am to get out of the town alive. And as to the female banditti in the riding habit, with all the trunks and boxes; if you'll let me know"—
"The coach can't wait a moment, sir."
Mr Clam cast a despairing look as he saw his last hope of finding out the mystery disappear. He stept into the inside of the coach—
"Coachman," he said, with his foot on the step—"There's no lady inside, is there?"
"No, sir."
"Then drive on; if there had been, I wouldn't have travelled a mile with her." The roll of the coach drowned the remainder of Mr Clam's eloquence; and it is much feared that his enquiries have been unsuccessful to the present day.