e told no one of the Begum's jewels, or his
intentions concerning their disposal.

CHAPTER XIX.

The happy, light Dragoon, in order to be near the lady of his love, had
taken up his quarters at Harold's Hotel, in Albermarle Street, a very
quiet, but aristocratic place, leading into Picadilly. Beyond the
Bartons and their family circle, he had few intimate friends, in fact,
except Draycott, the surgeon of his regiment, with whom he had been on
the most intimate terms for years in India, and to whom he revealed all
his joys and sorrows, there was not one male friend he cared a jot for
in London; of course the men of his club, and those he had met abroad,
who, like himself, were now home on leave, dropped in upon him
occasionally at his rooms; but his constant visitor and companion in his
peregrinations through the labyrinths of the great Babylon during the
height of a London season, was Draycott: he was young, clever, high
principled, thoroughly good natured, and of an old county family. He had
but once only paid a flying visit to the metropolis previous to joining
his regiment in India, and now having a few pounds to spare, was
determined to enjoy himself in the gay Capital to his heart's content,
and whenever practicable, induced Arthur to give him his society.

They had been breakfasting together, one morning in the latter's
apartment, and were discussing numerous scenes and things at home and
abroad in which they had both participated; nor was Arthur's
approaching marriage with Edith Effingham, and his idea of leaving the
service, left uncommented upon by his old friend.

"Well," remarked Draycott, with a gay, good natured laugh, "after your
adventures and hair-breadth escapes, together with your great good luck
in winning the beautiful heiress, it would not surprise me in the least
if some old fairy godmother dropped from the clouds and transformed you
into a gallant young Prince of some beautiful isle of the sea, yielding
untold wealth, like the isle of the famous Count de Monte Cristo." Here
the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the waiter, who
handed Arthur a card, which announced that a Mr. A.G. Capias, of the
firm of Docket & Capias, Solicitors, Bedford Row, desired to speak with
him on business of a private character.

"More parchment and red tape work cut out for you to-day," remarked the
surgeon, "so I am off, but will drop in later in the day."

"Now, my good fellow, oblige me by