I sat down in silence and in sorrow of heart, to speculate, as well as I was able, on the consequences of my misfortune. I knew enough of Bubbleton to be certain that all chance of assistance in that quarter was out of the question: the only source he could draw upon being his invention; the only wealth he possessed, the riches of his imagination, which had, however, this advantage over any other species of property I ever heard of,--the more he squandered it, the more affluent did he become. Time wore on; the clock struck four, and yet no appearance of Bubbleton. Another hour rolled by,--no one came near me; and at length, from the perfect stillness without, I believed they had forgotten me. CHAPTER XVI. THE BAIL. Six o'clock, seven, and even eight struck; and yet no one came. The monotonous tread of the sentry on guard at the Castle gate and the occasional challenge to some passing stranger were the only sounds I heard above the distant hum of the city, which grew fainter gradually as evening fell. At last I heard the sound of a key moving in a lock, the bang of a door, and then came the noise of many voices as the footsteps mounted the stairs, amid which Bubbleton's was pre-eminently loud. The party entered the room next to where I sat, and from the tones I could collect that Major Barton and Mr. Cooke were of the number. Another there was, too, whose voice was not absolutely new or strange to my ears, though I could not possibly charge my memory where I had heard it before. While I was thus musing, the door opened noiselessly, and Bubbleton entering without a word, closed it behind him, and approached me on tiptoe. “All right, my boy; they're doing the needful outside; ready in ten minutes: never was such a piece of fortune; found out a glorious fellow; heard of him from Hicks the money-lender; he'll go security to any amount; knows your family well; knew your father, grandfather, I believe; delighted to meet you; says he 'd rather see you than fifty pounds.” “Who is he, for Heaven's sake?” said I, impatiently; for it was a new thing to me to receive anything like kindness on the score of my father's memory. “Eh! who is he? He 's a kind of a bill-broking, mortgaging, bail-giving, devilish good sort of fellow. I 've a notion he 'd do a bit of something at three months.” “But his name? what 's he called?”