room?' interrogated the lady. 'Certainly,
ma'am,' responded the chamber-maid. 'Nothing but these 'ere trunks,
ma'am?' inquired the guard. 'Nothing more,' replied the lady. Up got
the outsides again, and the guard, and the coachman; off came the cloths,
with a jerk; 'All right,' was the cry; and away they went. The loungers
lingered a minute or two in the road, watching the coach until it turned
the corner, and then loitered away one by one. The street was clear
again, and the town, by contrast, quieter than ever.

'Lady in number twenty-five,' screamed the landlady.--'Thomas!'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Letter just been left for the gentleman in number nineteen. Boots at
the Lion left it. No answer.'

'Letter for you, sir,' said Thomas, depositing the letter on number
nineteen's table.

'For me?' said number nineteen, turning from the window, out of which he
had been surveying the scene just described.

'Yes, sir,'--(waiters always speak in hints, and never utter complete
sentences,)--'yes, sir,--Boots at the Lion, sir,--Bar, sir,--Missis said
number nineteen, sir--Alexander Trott, Esq., sir?--Your card at the bar,
sir, I think, sir?'

'My name _is_ Trott,' replied number nineteen, breaking the seal. 'You
may go, waiter.' The waiter pulled down the window-blind, and then
pulled it up again--for a regular waiter must do something before he
leaves the room--adjusted the glasses on the side-board, brushed a place
that was _not_ dusty, rubbed his hands very hard, walked stealthily to
the door, and evaporated.

There was, evidently, something in the contents of the letter, of a
nature, if not wholly unexpected, certainly extremely disagreeable. Mr.
Alexander Trott laid it down, and took it up again, and walked about the
room on particular squares of the carpet, and even attempted, though
unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. It wouldn't do. He threw himself
into a chair, and read the following epistle aloud:--

'Blue Lion and Stomach-warmer,
'Great Winglebury.
'_Wednesday Morning_.

'Sir. Immediately on discovering your intentions, I left our
counting-house, and followed you. I know the purport of your
journey;--that journey shall never be completed.

'I have no friend here, just now, on whose secrecy I can rely. This
shall be no obstacle