"Oddsfish, man—as our merry monarch of happy memory used to say—but yours is a curious tale. The ladies will rave over the romance of it—coupled with that face of yours. Oh, never say die, man! You’ve the world before you. What more do you ask than such a face, such a story, and a few hundred pounds in your pocket? Why, with decent luck, those hundreds ought to make thousands in a very short time. You trust yourself to me, my young friend. I know my London. I know the ropes. I will show you how fortunes are made in a night; and you shall be the pet of the ladies and the envy of the beaux before another month has passed. We will find you an heiress for a wife, and—heigh, presto!—the thing is done." Grey started, and made a gesture as of repulsion, whereat Lord Sandford roared with laughter; and there was something so heartwhole and infectious in his laugh that Grey found himself joining in almost without knowing it. The man had a strong personality, that was not to be doubted, and at this moment Grey felt himself singularly lonely, singularly perplexed about his own immediate future. He did not know London. He had scarcely set foot within its precincts, save on the occasion when he went to bid his father farewell, and when it seemed to him that he stepped into Pandemonium itself. Since then he had visited many foreign capitals, and had accustomed himself to the life there to some extent; but only to the life of a traveller—an onlooker. Now he felt that something more lay before him—that it was as a citizen and a unit in the great hive that he must go. And how to steer his bark through the shoals and quicksands of the new life, he had very small idea. To win fame and fortune was his wish; but how were these good things to be achieved? Never had it entered his head to look upon marriage as a way of gaining either. "Zounds, man, don’t look like that! Better men than you or I have not been shamed to thank their wives for their promotion. But there are more ways of killing a cat than hanging. We’ll look about and see. You put yourself in my hands, and I’ll show you the ropes. No, no; no thanks. I want some diversion myself. Poor Tom Gregory, my boon companion, made a fool of himself over the wine the other night, and got spitted like a cockchafer by Captain Dashwood. I’ve felt bad ever since. I tried what a trip into the country would do for me. But dash it all, I can’t stand the dreariness of it. I am on my way back to town as fast as may be. And you shall come with me. Nay, I’ll take no denial. A man must have something to do with his time, or he’ll get into a pretty peck of mischief. I’ve taken a liking to you; and I always get my own way, because I won’t listen to objections." So an hour later, when the coach rumbled out from under the archway of the old inn, Grey Dumaresq sat within by Lord Sandford’s side, and Dick, with a puzzled but satisfied face, led his master’s horse behind.