had seen the
report of the application re Meeson in the _Times_, and, though he knew
that he was disinherited, it was a little crushing. He had lost the
fortune for Augusta's sake, and now he had lost Augusta also; and he
reflected, not without dismay, on the long dreary existence that
stretched away before him, filled up as it were with prospective piles
of Latin proofs. With a sigh he halted at the Wellington-street
crossing in the Strand, which, owing to the constant stream of traffic
at this point, is one of the worst in London. There was a block at the
moment, as there generally is, and he stood for some minutes watching
the frantic dashes of an old woman, who always tried to cross it at the
wrong time, not without some amusement. Presently, however, a boy with
a bundle of unfolded _Globes_ under his arm came rushing along, making
the place hideous with his howls.

"Wonderful escape of a lady and han infant!" he roared. "Account of the
survivors of the Kangaroo--wonderful escape--desert island--arrival of
the Magnolia with the criminals."

Eustace jumped, and instantly bought a copy of the paper, stepping into
the doorway of a shop where they sold masonic jewels of every size and
hue, in order to read it. The very first thing that his eye fell on was
an editorial paragraph.

"In another column," ran the paragraph, "will be found a short account,
telegraphed to us from Southampton just as we are going to press, of the
most remarkable tale of the sea that we are acquainted with. The escape
of Miss Augusta Smithers and of the little Lord Holmhurst--as we suppose
that we must now call him--from the ill-fated Kangaroo, and their
subsequent rescue, on Kerguelen Land, by the American whaler, will
certainly take rank as the most romantic incident of its kind in the
recent annals of shipwreck. Miss Smithers, who will be better known to
the public as the authoress of that charming book 'Jemima's Vow,' which
took the town by storm about a year ago, will arrive at Waterloo Station
by the 5.40 train, and we shall then--"

Eustace read no more. Sick and faint with an extraordinary revulsion of
feeling, he leant against the door of the masonic shop, which promptly
opened in the most hospitable manner, depositing him upon his back on the
floor of the establishment. In a second he was up, and had bounded out of
the shop with such energy that the shopman was on the point of holloaing
"Stop thief!" It was exactly five o'clock, a