Mr. Hammond? No, the landlord had never heard the name. Constant change of faces renders landlords preternaturally stupid on this point, they can never fit names to faces or faces to names. Hammond? no, he thought not. John! did John know the name of Hammond? But before John could sufficiently focus his wits to know whether he did or not, Dr. Bronk had heard all, had stepped up to the side of the phaeton, had made a half-friendly, half-deferential bow, and was in full swing. Mr. Hammond? a middle-aged gentleman,--well, who perhaps might be described as rather elderly, yes. Bald,--yes. With a young daughter and a very charming wife? Yes, O yes; certainly he knew them; he had the honour of being their medical attendant,--Dr. Bronk of the Paragon. Lately had come down to Torquay, recommended to him by his--he was proud to say--old friend and former fellow-pupil, Sir Charles Dumfunk, now President of the College of Physicians. Where were they? well, they had been really unfortunate. Torquay, my dear sir, every year rising in importance, every year more sought after,--for which perhaps some little credit was due to a little medical brochure of his, _Torquay and its Climate_,--Torquay was so full that when Mrs. Hammond sent down that admirable person, Miss Gillespie,--whom of course the gentleman knew,--there was only one house vacant. So the family had been forced to content themselves with a mansion--No. 2, Cleveland Gardens, very nice, sheltered, and yet with a charming sea-view. Where was it? Did the gentleman see the bow-windowed shop at the corner? Second turning to the right, just beyond that--"Se-cond turn-ing to the right!" This shouted after Sir Charles, who, with a feeling that the chestnuts were too rapidly cooling after their sharp drive, had started them off the minute he had obtained the information. The second turning to the right was duly taken, and No. 2, Cleveland Gardens, was duly reached. It was the usual style of seaside-house, with stuccoed front and green veranda, and the never-failing creeper which the Devonians always grow to show the mildness of their climate. The groom's thundering knock produced a smart waiting-maid, who acknowledged that Mrs. Hammond lived there; and the sending in of Sir Charles Mitford's card produced a London flunkey, on whom the country air had had a demoralizing influence, so far as his outward appearance was concerned. But he acknowledged Sir Charles's arrival with a deferential bow, and begging him to walk in, assured him that his mistress would come down directly. So the groom was sent round, to put up his horses at the stables of the Royal, and Sir Charles followed the footman into the drawing-room.