A huge servant of the duke's--with powdered hair, silver epaulettes, dark crimson coat, and white breeches, having altogether a most splendid appearance--created something like a sensation in the immediate neighborhood of Thavies' Inn, by inquiring, with a very impatient and excited air, for "Thavies' Inn," and a "gentleman of the name of _Gammon_" who was very naturally supposed to be honored by some special and direct communication from the king, or at least some member of the royal family. Gammon himself, who was in the act of opening his door to go out and make his promised call of inquiry in Grosvenor Square--was flustered for a moment, on finding himself stepping into the arms of such an imposing personage; who said, as he gave him the letter, on finding him to be Mr. Gammon--"From the Duke of Tantallan, sir. His Grace, I believe, expects you immediately, sir." Mr. Gammon hastily opened the letter, and having glanced at the contents--"Give my compliments to his Grace, and say I will attend him immediately," said he. The man withdrew, and Gammon returned into his chamber, and sat for a few moments in the darkness--he having just before put out his lamp. He burst into a cold sweat--"What's in the wind now!" said he to himself. "Ah, why did I not ask the fellow?"--and starting from his seat, he rushed down-stairs, and succeeded in calling back the duke's servant just as he was turning out of the inn--"Do you happen to have been into Grosvenor Square to-day?--And do you know how the Earl of Dreddlington is?" inquired Gammon, anxiously. "Yes, sir; his Lordship, and the Lady Cecilia Titmouse, are both dangerously ill. I believe his Lordship, sir, has had a stroke--they say it's the second he's had to-day--and her Ladyship is taken in labor, and is in a shocking bad way, sir. The duke and duchess were sent for in a dreadful hurry about an hour ago." "Dear! I'm sorry to hear it! Thank you," replied Gammon, hastily turning away a face which he felt must have gone of a ghastly paleness.