“I've come up from London on purpose to see you. Just got here only a few minutes ago,” said he, laying off his overcoat. “But upon my word!” he added, surveying me from head to foot, “I didn't expect to find such a big, strapping fellow as you are. Your surroundings are quite as I had supposed they would be. Cramped quarters in a miserable tumble-down back street! I suppose your guardian provided this place for you?” “I believe so,” said I. “Did you know that your stepmother had married again?” he asked. “Married!” I exclaimed. “To whom?” “To Martin Cobb.” “To my guardian?” I asked, in astonishment. Not heeding my question, he continued: “You're intending to go home to-morrow, I believe?” “Yes, sir.” “My boy,” said he, “I have an interest in you. I was your father's friend and adviser for many years. I came all this distance to tell you not to go to London. Do not ask me why, I beg you,” said he, with an impatient gesture when I attempted to speak. “It would do you no good to learn my reason for making this request. Listen to this--it's important to you: There's an uncle of yours in America, your nearest relative, I believe. Of course you have heard your father speak of him. A most eccentric fellow! but a man of fine ability. He was a graduate of Oxford and a physician of great skill and learning. Thirty-five years ago he went to Canada and finally settled in a large town on one of the great lakes not far from the border. It was Detroit, I believe. Your father told me, shortly before his death, that he had not heard from your uncle for many years. I have written to him twice within a twelvemonth, but have received no reply. I want you to go over and look him up. If you should find that he is dead, there's no harm done, and you can take time to look about for a business opportunity. If you don't like it, come back, but, if you can content yourself there for awhile, you had better do so.” “But, sir, I have no money.” “You are going for me; I shall, therefore, insist upon paying the bills. In the success of the undertaking I have, perhaps, as great an interest as you.” “When do you wish me to start?” I asked. “To-night. That is to say, I would like you to leave this place at once, go with me to a hotel, and sail by the first steamer that leaves for New York.” Ever since that strange and silent messenger had come to me with my uncle's letter I had been haunted by a desire to go in quest of him. Now that it was possible, I hesitated. What would Hester say on hearing that I had gone to America? It would be very grand to write her from New York that I had been suddenly called abroad on important business. Would she care? Of course she would care, and I was willing to wager a sixpence with myself that she would cry bitterly, too, on receiving the letter. Ah, what a punishment that would be for her coldness and indifference! Yes, I would go. I began picking up my things and packing them into my box.