On his way this side the bridge he met an old man with a stick who stopped in his lame walk to turn about any little heap his eye met. This old man was attended by a dog, who smelt at what the man touched. "Have you seen a letter," cried Mr Lawrence, "a broad piece of paper folded into four lying in the road?" "Seen a what, your Anner?" "Where are you from?" "From Oozles." Mr Lawrence repeated his first question. "I don't know what you mean," said the old man. Mr Lawrence easily perceived that he didn't, and went on his way always hunting with his eyes. Past the bridge he met another old man, a peasant with silver hair, fit, dressed as he was, to walk upon any stage, and immediately take part in any performance that included a peasant, a foster-child, and a baron. This white hair gave him a reverend look, and his legs were strangely bandaged round about, and his smock was a gown in which he could have preached a sermon without exciting much suspicion as to the propriety of his dress. "Have you seen a letter folded in four lying in the road?" shouted Mr Lawrence. "I'm a little 'ard of 'earing," was the answer, and the picturesque old man put his hand to his ear shellwise. Mr Lawrence went close to him and shouted. "Gard bless your worship," said the old man in a sweet voice and a face beautiful with the touches of the pencil of time upon a countenance originally open, gracious, and good, "I ha'nt received a letter since her last from my poor old woife, and that 'ull be twenty year ago, as I know by the laying of the foundation stone----" Mr Lawrence broke away, and asked no more questions during the rest of his walk. He saw no letter--nothing like it. He went on board the _Minorca_, and seeing the mate at the main-hatch, asked in an off-hand way if a copy of a letter had been found in the cabin, or any other part of the ship that morning. "No, sir." And there was an end. With wrath in his heart, and cursing himself again and again as a barnyard idiot fit for spread eagling only to carry such a missive as that about with him when its miscarriage might prove his destruction, might even now be working it, he stepped on to the wharf and came across Paul. "Here!" said he. The youth approached. "I have lost a letter this morning," said Mr Lawrence, explaining its form and size, "and it must have fallen from my pocket somewhere between my father's house and this ship by way of Old Friar's Road. If you can bring me that letter, or find out if it has been found, and if so, by whom, before we sail, you shall have five pounds." "Simply a letter, your honour, folded into four, without address, written in pencil, and not sealed?" said the hunchback. "That's it!" exclaimed Mr Lawrence. "I'll do my best, sir, and I'll work from dawn to night to find it, if it's to be found," was the answer. CHAPTER VII WHERE IS THE _MINORCA_?