And I wish you good night." He passed out, and down the stairs; as he passed the public parlour-door, he heard a man bawling out a song, two or three lines of which he heard, and which made him blush to the tips of his ears, old soldier as he was.
As he walked up the street, he soliloquised: "A pretty mess I've made of it--done him all the service I could, and not helped her a bit--I see there is no chance of seeing her, though I shall try.

I will go round Hampstead to-morrow, though that is a poor chance.

In Paris, now, or Vienna, one could find her directly.

What a pity we have no police!".