The accomplishment of the second object was, however, a different matter. Mr. Effingham's innate cunning taught him that after all he had said to Miss Gillespie--or Lizzie Ponsford--about the source of his instructions, the company of her old acquaintances--Messrs. Lyons, Griffiths, Crockett, and Dunks--was about the last she would be likely to affect; and yet in their society only would he have opportunities of seeking her. Through the oft-threaded mazes of that tangled web, in and out, from haunt to haunt, Mr. Effingham once more wended his way,--asking every one, prying into every corner, listening to every conversation,--all to no purpose. He began to think that the object of his search must have departed from her original intention, and instead of coming up to London, have halted on the way; but then, what could she have done alone, unaided, without resources, in any provincial town? Mr. Effingham took to frequenting the Devonshire public-houses and coffee-shops,--queer London holes kept by Devonshire people, who yet preserved a little clannish spirit, who took in a Devon paper, and whose houses were houses-of-call for stray children of the far West, sojourning for business or pleasure in London. Many a long talk was there in Long Acre or Smithfield, surrounded by the foetid atmosphere and the dull rumblings of metropolitan life, of the Exe and the Dart, of the wooded coast of Dawlish and the lovely bay of Babbicombe, of purple moor and flashing cataract, of wrestling-matches and pony-fairs. The cads who dropped in for an accidental half-pint stared with wonder at the brown countrymen, on whom the sun-tan yet remained, who talked a language they had never heard, in an accent they could not understand; who had their own jokes and their own allusions, in which the jolly landlord and his wife bore their part, but which were utterly unintelligible to the cockney portion of the customers. In these houses, among the big burly shoulders of the assembled Devonians, Mr. Effingham's perky little head was now constantly seen. They did not know who he was; but as he was invariably polite and good-natured, took the somewhat ponderous provincial badinage with perfect suavity, and was always ready to drink or smoke with any of them, they tolerated his presence and answered his questions respecting the most recent arrivals from their native county civilly enough. But all was unavailing; to none of them was the personal appearance of Miss Gillespie known. The presence of any stranger in their neighbourhood would not have passed unnoticed; but of the few sojourners who were described to him, none corresponded in the least to that person whom he sought so anxiously.