He was interrupted in his reverie by some one tapping him on the shoulder, and, on turning round, he discovered it to be the very man who had explained to him the condition of his gay companion at Hyde Park Corner. “I am glad to see you, sir,” said he; “I believe we are fellows in disappointment.” Harley started, and said that he was at a loss to understand him. “Pooh! you need not be so shy,” answered the other; “every one for himself is but fair, and I had much rather you had got it than the rascally gauger.” Harley still protested his ignorance of what he meant. “Why, the lease of Bancroft Manor; had not you been applying for it?” “I confess I was,” replied Harley; “but I cannot conceive how you should be interested in the matter.” “Why, I was making interest for it myself,” said he, “and I think I had some title. I voted for this same baronet at the last election, and made some of my friends do so too; though I would not have you imagine that I sold my vote. No, I scorn it, let me tell you I scorn it; but I thought as how this man was staunch and true, and I find he’s but a double-faced fellow after all, and speechifies in the House for any side he hopes to make most by. Oh, how many fine speeches and squeezings by the hand we had of him on the canvas! ‘And if ever I shall be so happy as to have an opportunity of serving you.’ A murrain on the smooth-tongued knave, and after all to get it for this pimp of a gauger.” “The gauger! there must be some mistake,” said Harley. “He writes me, that it was engaged for one whose long services—” “Services!” interrupted the other; “you shall hear. Services! Yes, his sister arrived in town a few days ago, and is now sempstress to the baronet. A plague on all rogues, says honest Sam Wrightson. I shall but just drink damnation to them to-night, in a crown’s worth of Ashley’s, and leave London to-morrow by sun-rise.” “I shall leave it too,” said Harley; and so he accordingly did. In passing through Piccadilly, he had observed, on the window of an inn, a notification of the departure of a stage-coach for a place in his road homewards; in the way back to his lodgings, he took a seat in it for his return. CHAPTER XXXIII. HE LEAVES LONDON—CHARACTERS IN A STAGE-COACH. THE company in the stage-coach consisted of a grocer and his wife, who were going to pay a visit to some of their country friends; a young officer, who took this way of marching to quarters; a middle-aged gentlewoman, who had been hired as housekeeper to some family in the country; and an elderly, well-looking man, with a remarkable old-fashioned periwig. Harley, upon entering, discovered but one vacant seat, next the grocer’s wife, which, from his natural shyness of temper, he made no scruple to occupy, however aware that riding backwards always disagreed with him.