"Anything you like, Louie, only don't let them know at home--yet, and don't leave me. If you did I should break down at once." "Then will you be guided by me?" "Yes." "And take these jewels yourself and raise money?" "Yes; but it is too late now." Louise glanced at the window, and in her ignorance of such matters half felt the truth of his words. "Then to-morrow you will do as I wish?" "Yes, to-morrow," he said wearily. "Put not off until to-morrow--" said Louise softly to herself; and she stood watching her brother as he sat with bended head, weak, broken, and despairing, in the gathering gloom. Volume 3, Chapter XV. AN OLD FRIEND--OR ENEMY? "Where shall we stay? I'll show you," said Uncle Luke, after giving instructions to the cabman. "My old hotel in Surrey Street. Comfortable, motherly woman. No nonsense." "And what do you propose doing?" "Let's hear first what you propose," shouted the old man, so as to make his voice heard above the rattle of the cab-windows--four-wheelers Jehu's enemies, which lose him many a fare. "I have nothing to propose," said Leslie sadly; "only to find her." "And I've given you twenty-four hours to think it out, including last night at Plymouth." "My head is in a whirl, sir; I am in no condition to think. Pray suggest something." "Hah! The old folks are useful, then, after all. Well, then, you would like to hear my plans?" Leslie nodded. "First, then, there is a good tea, with some meat; and while we are having that I shall send off a messenger." "To find them?" "No. Wait." Leslie had found out that the best way to deal with Uncle Luke was to treat him like a conger-eel, such as they caught among the rocks about Hakemouth. Once hooked, if the fisher dragged at the line, the snaky monster pulled and fought till the line cut into the holder's hands, and sometimes was broken or the hook torn out; whereas, if instead of pulling, the creature had its head given, it began to swim up rapidly, and placed itself within reach of the gaff. So, in spite of his fretful irritation of mind, he allowed the old man to have his own way. The result was, that before they sat down to their meal at the quiet hotel, Uncle Luke wrote a letter, which was dispatched by special messenger, after which he ate heartily; while Leslie played with a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast. "Not the way to do work," said Uncle Luke grimly. "Eat, man; eat. Coal and coke to make the human engine get up steam." Leslie made an effort to obey, but everything seemed distasteful, and he took refuge behind a paper till the waiter entered with a card. "Hah! yes: show him in," said Uncle Luke. "Here he is, Leslie," he continued. "Here who is?" "Parkins." "Parkins?" "Sergeant Parkins. You remember?"