"Yes; but if they are dead, and by saying they are alive, one can make old age comfortable, there's no harm in it--eh?" "I don't know," said William, irresolutely. "But certainly it is a hard thing to be so poor at my time of life; and so honest a man as I've been, too!" Captain Smith went a little too far when he said that "honesty's nothing without force of character." Still, Honesty has no business to be helpless and draggle-tailed;--she must be active and brisk, and make use of her wits; or, though she keep clear or the prison, 'tis no very great wonder if she fall on the parish. CHAPTER III. "Mitis.--This Macilente, signior, begins to be more sociable on a sudden." _Every Man out of his Humour_. "Punt. Signior, you are sufficiently instructed. "Fast. Who, I, sir?"--Ibid. After spending the greater part of the day in vain inquiries and a vain search, Philip and Mr. Morton returned to the house of the latter. "And now," said Philip, "all that remains to be done is this: first give to the police of the town a detailed description of the man; and secondly, let us put an advertisement both in the county journal and in some of the London papers, to the effect, that if the person who called on you will take the trouble to apply again, either personally or by letter, he may obtain the information sought for. In case he does, I will trouble you to direct him to--yes--to Monsieur de Vaudemont, according to this address." "Not to you, then?" "It is the same thing," replied Philip, drily. "You have confirmed my suspicions, that the Beauforts know some thing of my brother. What did you say of some other friend of the family who assisted in the search?" "Oh,--a Mr. Spencer! an old acquaintance of your mother's." Here Mr. Morton smiled, but not being encouraged in a joke, went on, "However, that's neither here nor there; he certainly never found out your brother. For I have had several letters from him at different times, asking if any news had been heard of either of you." And, indeed, Spencer had taken peculiar pains to deceive the Mortons, whose interposition he feared little less than that of the Beauforts. "Then it can be of no use to apply to him," said Philip, carelessly, not having any recollection of the name of Spencer, and therefore attaching little importance to the mention of him. "Certainly, I should think not. Depend on it, Mr. Beaufort must know." "True," said Philip. "And I have only to thank you for your kindness, and return to town." "But stay with us this day--do--let me feel that we are friends. I assure you poor Sidney's fate has been a load on my mind ever since he left. You shall have the bed he slept in, and over which your mother bent when she left him and me for the last time." These words were said with so much feeling, that the adventurer wrung his uncle's hand, and said, "Forgive me, I wronged you--I will be your guest."