, and damn his
son and heir for his extravagance. As the coal put back in the hod was
rapidly filling the room with its smoke, James the younger fled
incontinently; and the elder contemplated the situation. It was true
Jamie had not written; but he had not thought much about it. Harley
entered.

"I was thinking, sir, of going down to Mr. McMurtagh's lodgings and
asking if they had heard from him."

"Haven't you been there yet? I should think any fool would have gone
there first!"

"That's why I didn't, sir," said Harley respectfully.

Old Mr. Bowdoin chuckled grimly, and his grandson took his leave.

"Come back and tell me at the bank!" cried Mr. Bowdoin.

But hardly had Harley got down the stairs before the old gentleman had
another visitor. And this time it was a sheriff with brass buttons;
and he held a large document in his hands.

Now Mr. Bowdoin was not over-fond of officers of the law; he detested
lawsuits, and he had a horror of legal documents. Therefore he groaned
at the sight, and, throwing open a window, fingered his watch-chain
nervously, as one who is about to flee.

"What do _you_ want, sir?" said he.

"Is this the office of James Bowdoin's Sons?"

"What if it were, sir?"

The officer brandished his document. "Is there a clerk here,--one
James McMurtagh?"

"No, sir." Mr. Bowdoin spoke decidedly.

"Has he a son-in-law, David St. Clair?"

The old gentleman breathed a sigh of relief. "He has, sir."

"Where is McMurtagh?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Where is St. Clair?"

"Have you a citation for him?"

The officer winked. "Can you tell me where to find him?"

Mr. Bowdoin saw his chance. "Yes, sir; I can, sir. The last I heard of
him, he had gone to Cuba on a filibustering expedition with one
General Walker, who has since been hanged; and if you find him, you'll
find him in Havana, Cuba, and can serve the citation on him there;
though I'm bound to tell you," ended the old gentleman in a louder
voice, "my opinion is, he won't care a d----n for you or your citation
either!" And Mr. Bowdoin bolted down the stairs.

XI.

So Mr. Bowdoin hurried up the street to the bank, half chuckling, half
angry, still. Then (having found that there was a special and very
important directors' meeting called at once) he scurried out again
upon the street, his papers in his hat, and did the business of the
day on 'change. And then he went back to the bank, and asked if Mr.
Harleston Bowdoin had go