visits, that everybody knew whence he came, and appeared quite guilty
before his mother and guardian, over their books or their game at
picquet.

Once having walked out half a mile, to the Fairoaks Inn, beyond the Lodge
gates, to be in readiness for the Competitor coach, which changed horses
there, to take a run for Chatteris, a man on the roof touched his hat to
the young gentleman: it was his uncle's man, Mr. Morgan, who was going on
a message for his master, and had been took up at the Lodge, as he said.
And Mr. Morgan came back by the Rival, too; so that Pen had the pleasure
of that domestic's company both ways. Nothing was said at home. The lad
seemed to have every decent liberty; and yet he felt himself dimly
watched and guarded, and that there were eyes upon him even in the
presence of his Dulcinea.

In fact, Pen's suspicions were not unfounded, and his guardian had sent
forth to gather all possible information regarding the lad and his
interesting young friend. The discreet and ingenious Mr. Morgan, a London
confidential valet, whose fidelity could be trusted, had been to
Chatteris more than once, and made every inquiry regarding the past
history and present habits of the Captain and his daughter. He delicately
cross-examined the waiters, the ostlers, and all the inmates of the bar
at the George, and got from them what little they knew respecting the
worthy Captain. He was not held in very great regard there, as it
appeared. The waiters never saw the colour of his money, and were warned
not to furnish the poor gentleman with any liquor for which some other
party was not responsible. He swaggered sadly about the coffee-room
there, consumed a toothpick, and looked over the paper, and if any friend
asked him to dinner he stayed. Morgan heard at the George of Pen's
acquaintance with Mr. Foker, and he went over to Baymouth to enter into