r rolled by,--no one came near me; and at length,
from the perfect stillness without, I believed they had forgotten me.

CHAPTER XVI. THE BAIL.

Six o'clock, seven, and even eight struck; and yet no one came. The
monotonous tread of the sentry on guard at the Castle gate and the
occasional challenge to some passing stranger were the only sounds I
heard above the distant hum of the city, which grew fainter gradually as
evening fell. At last I heard the sound of a key moving in a lock, the
bang of a door, and then came the noise of many voices as the footsteps
mounted the stairs, amid which Bubbleton's was pre-eminently loud. The
party entered the room next to where I sat, and from the tones I could
collect that Major Barton and Mr. Cooke were of the number. Another
there was, too, whose voice was not absolutely new or strange to my
ears, though I could not possibly charge my memory where I had heard it
before.

While I was thus musing, the door opened noiselessly, and Bubbleton
entering without a word, closed it behind him, and approached me on
tiptoe.

"All right, my boy; they're doing the needful outside; ready in ten
minutes: never was such a piece of fortune; found out a glorious fellow;
heard of him from Hicks the money-lender; he'll go security to any
amount; knows your family well; knew your father, grandfather, I
believe; delighted to meet you; says he 'd rather see you than fifty
pounds."

"Who is he, for Heaven's sake?" said I, impatiently; for it was a
new thing to me to receive anything like kindness on the score of my
father's memory.

"Eh! who is he? He 's a kind of a bill-broking, mortgaging,
bail-giving, devilish good sort of fellow. I 've a notion he 'd do a bit
of something at three months."

"But his name? what 's he called?"

"His name is,--let me see,--his name is--But who cares for his name?
He can write it, I suppose, on a stamp, my boy; that 's the mark. Bless
your heart, I only spoil a stamp when I put my autograph across it;
it would be worth prime cost till then. What a glorious thing is
youth,--unfledged, unblemished youth,--to possess a name new to the
Jews, a reputation against which no one has 'protested' I Tom Burke, my
boy, I envy you. Now, when I write George Frederick Augustus Bubbleton
on any bill, warrant, or quittance, straightway there 's a grin around
the circle,--a kind of a damned impertinent sort of a half-civil smile,
as though to say 'nulla bona,' payable nowher