"I will not fail to enquire," said Lord Etherington; and, with these words, he took a kind farewell of Mowbray, mounted his horse, and rode up the avenue. "A cool fellow," said Mowbray, as he looked after him, "a d--d cool fellow, this brother-in-law of mine, that is to be--takes a shot at his father's son with as little remorse as at a blackcock--what would he do with me, were we to quarrel?--Well, I can snuff a candle, and strike out the ace of hearts; and so, should things go wrong, he has no Jack Raw to deal with, but Jack Mowbray." Meanwhile the Earl of Etherington hastened home to his own apartments at the Hotel; and, not entirely pleased with the events of the day, commenced a letter to his correspondent, agent, and confidant, Captain Jekyl, which we have fortunately the means of presenting to our readers.-- "Friend Harry,--They say a falling house is best known by the rats leaving it--a falling state, by the desertion of confederates and allies--and a falling man, by the desertion of his friends. If this be true augury; your last letter may be considered as ominous of my breaking down. Methinks, you have gone far enough, and shared deep enough with me, to have some confidence in my _savoir faire_--some little faith both in my means and management. What crossgrained fiend has at once inspired you with what I suppose you wish me to call politic doubts and scruples of conscience, but which I can only regard as symptoms of fear and disaffection? You can have no idea of 'duels betwixt relations so nearly connected'--and 'the affair seems very delicate and intricate'--and again, 'the matter has never been fully explained to you'--and, moreover, 'if you are expected to take an active part in the business, it must be when you are honoured with my full and unreserved confidence, otherwise how could you be of the use to me which I might require?' Such are your expressions.