"And the lady—What news of her?"
The countenance of Strachan fell.
"Ah, my dear friend! I wish you had not touched upon that string—you have set my whole frame a jarring. No trace of her—none—none! I fear I shall never see her more!"
"Come! don't be down-hearted. One never can tell what may happen. Perhaps you may meet her sooner than you think."
"You are a kind-hearted-fellow, Fred. But I've lost all hope. Nothing but a dreary existence is now before me, and—but, by Jupiter, there goes the starting bell!"
Tom vanished, like Aubrey's apparition, with a melodious twang, and a perceptible odour of tar; and so, being determined to expiscate the matter, I proceeded towards the Broomielaw, and in due time became master of the locality of the Cat and Bagpipes.
"Is there a Mr Whaup here?" I inquired of Mrs M'Tavish, the landlady, who was filling a gill-stoup at the bar.
"Here you are, old chap!" cried the hilarious voice of Anthony from an inner apartment. "Turn to the right, steer clear of the scrubbing brushes, and help yourself to a mouthful of Guinness."
I obeyed. Heavens, what a figure he was! His trowsers were rent both at the knees and elsewhere, and were kept together solely by means of whip-cord. His shirt had evidently not benefited by the removal of the excise duties upon soap, and was screened from the scrutiny of the beholder by an extempore paletot, fabricated out of sail-cloth, without the remotest apology for sleeves.
Anthony, however, looked well in health, and appeared to be in tremendous spirits.