"You'd better not say Ullerton; Paget might take it into his head to
follow you down there in order to see what sort of person your aunt
was, and whether she had any money. Paget's an excellent fellow, but
there's never any knowing what that sort of man will do. You'd better
throw him off the scent altogether. Plant your aunt in Surrey--say
Dorking."

"But if he should want to write to me?"

"Tell him to address to the post-office, Dorking, as your aunt is
inquisitive, and might tamper with your correspondence. I daresay his
letters will keep."

"He could follow me to Dorking as easily as to Ullerton."

"Of course he could," answered George Sheldon; "but then, you see, at
Dorking the most he could find out would be that he'd been made a fool
of; whereas if he followed you to Ullerton, he might ferret out the
nature of your business there."

Mr. Hawkehurst perceived the wisdom of this conclusion, and agreed to
make Dorking the place of his relative's abode.

"It's very near London," he suggested thoughtfully; "the Captain might
easily run down."

"And for that very reason he's all the less likely to do it," answered
the lawyer; "a man who thinks of going to a place within an hour's ride
of town knows he can go any day, and is likely to think of going to the
end of the chapter without carrying out his intention. A man who
resolves to go to Manchester or Liverpool has to make his arrangements
accordingly, and is likely to put his idea into practice. The people
who live on Tower-hill very seldom see the inside of the Tower. It's
the good folks who come up for a week's holiday from Yorkshire and
Cornwall who know all about the Crown jewels and John of Gaunt's
armour. Take my advice, and stick to Dorking."

Acting upon this advice, Valentine Hawkehurst lay in wait for the
Promoter that very evening. He went home early, and was seated by a
cheery little bit of fire, such as an Englishman likes to see at the
close of a dull autumn day, when that accomplished personage returned
to his lodgings.

"Deuced tiresome work," said the Captain, as he smoothed the nap of his
hat with that caressing tenderness of manipulation peculiar to the man
who is not very clear as to the means whereby his next hat is to be
obtained,--"deuced slow, brain-belabouring work! How many people do you
think I've called upon to-day, eh, Val? Seven-and-thirty! What do you
say to that? Seven-and-thirty interviews, and some of them very tough
one