"I am off to Holland," he said; "'tis my only chance, bad though it be."
"I sincerely wish you success," replied I. "In any case, do not despair; something will turn up. You have friends in your own country, I have heard you say. They will help you to occupation."
He shook his head.
"Good friends over a bottle and a dice-box," said he, "but useless at a pinch like this. Pleasant fellows enough, but scamps like"—myself, he was going to add, but did not. "I am come to say farewell," he continued. "I must be off before daybreak. I have debts in Frankfort, and if my departure gets wind, I shall have a dozen duns on my back. Misfortunes never come alone. As for paying, it is out of the question. Amongst us we have only about enough money to reach Amsterdam. Once there—à la grace de Dieu! but I confess my hopes are small. Thanks for your advice—and for your sympathy too, for I saw this morning you were sorry for me, though you did not think I deserved pity. Well, perhaps not. God bless you."
He was leaving the room, but returned.
"I think you said you should stay at Coblenz before returning to England."
"I shall probably be there a few days towards the end of the month."
"Good. If I succeed, you shall hear from me. What is your address there?"
"Poste restante will find me," I replied, not very covetous of the correspondence, and unwilling to give a more exact direction.
Van Haubitz nodded and left me. At breakfast the next morning I learned that the Dutch baron, as the waiter styled him, had taken his departure at peep of day.