rubbed down like a horse by the professional runner; he drank a mighty
draught of malt liquor; he recovered his good-humor as if by magic.
"Want the pen and ink, Sir?" inquired his pedestrian host. "Not I!"
answered Geoffrey. "The muddle's out of me now. Pen and ink be hanged!
I shall look up some of our fellows, and go to the play." He left the
public house in the happiest condition of mental calm. Inspired by the
stimulant application of Crouch's gloves, his torpid cunning had been
shaken up into excellent working order at last. Write to Anne? Who but a
fool would write to such a woman as that until he was forced to it? Wait
and see what the chances of the next eight-and-forty hours might bring
forth, and then write to her, or desert her, as the event might decide.
It lay in a nut-shell, if you could only see it. Thanks to Crouch, he
did see it--and so away in a pleasant temper for a dinner with "our
fellows" and an evening at the play!


CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH.

GEOFFREY IN THE MARRIAGE MARKET.

THE interval of eight-and-forty hours passed--without the occurrence of
any personal communication between the two brothers in that time.

Julius, remaining at his father's house, sent brief written bulletins of
Lord Holchester's health to his brother at the hotel. The first bulletin
said, "Going on well. Doctors satisfied." The second was firmer in tone.
"Going on excellently. Doctors very sanguine." The third was the most
explicit of all. "I am to see my father in an hour from this. The
doctors answer for his recovery. Depend on my putting in a good word for
you, if I can; and wait to hear from me further at the hotel."