Whilst the brief dialogue which we have recited at the close of the last chapter took place, another, which as a faithful historian we are bound to detail, was proceeding between the redoubtable Crackenfudge and our facetious friend, Dandy Dulcimer. Crackenfudge in following the stranger to the metropolis by the 'Flash of Lightning', in order to watch his movements, was utterly ignorant that Lucy had been that gentleman's fellow-traveller in the Fly. A strong opposition, as we have already said, existed between the two coaches, and so equal was their speed, that in consequence of the mutual delay caused by changing horses, they frequently passed each other on the road, the driver, guard, and outside passengers of both coaches uniformly grimacing at each other amidst a storm of groans, cheers, and banter on both sides. So equal, however, were their relative powers of progress, that no effort on either side was found sufficient to enable any one of them to claim a victory. On the contrary, their contests generally ended in a dead heat, or something very nearly approaching it. On the night in question the 'Fly' had a slight advantage, and but a slight one. Before the coachman had time to descend from his ample seat, the 'Flash of Lightning' came dashing in at a most reckless speed--the unfortunate horses snorting and panting--steaming with smoke, which rose from them in white wreaths, and streaming in such a manner with perspiration that it was painful to look upon them. Crackenfudge was one of the first out of the 'Flash of Lightning', which, we should say, drew up at a rival establishment, directly opposite that which patronized the 'Fly'. He lost no time in sending in his trunk by “boots,” or some other of those harpies that are always connected with large hotels in the metropolis. Having accomplished this, he set himself, but quite in a careless way, to watch the motions of the stranger. For this purpose he availed himself of a position from whence he could see without being himself seen. Judge, then, of his surprise on ascertaining that the female whom he saw with the stranger was no other than Lucy Gourlay, and in conversation with the very individual with whose name, motions, and projects he wished so anxiously to become acquainted. If he watched Miss Gourlay and her companion well however, he himself was undergoing quite as severe a scrutiny. Dandy Dulcimer having observed him, in consequence of some hints that he had already received from a source with which the reader may become ultimately acquainted, approached, and putting his hand to his hat, exclaimed: “Why, then, Counsellor Crackenfudge, is it here I find your honor?” “Don't you see a'm here, Dandy, my fine fellow?” and this he uttered in a very agreeable tone, simply because he felt a weak and pitiable ambition to be addressed by the title of “Your honor.”