How could I have been such an idiot as to
leave them in my portmanteau! Some rascal might break it
open, and then, goodbye to my chance for ever! Chance? what
chance was there of seeing that luggage again? There were so
many 'mights.' I couldn't even swear that I had seen it on
the coach at Inverness. Oh dear! oh dear! What was to be
done? I walked about the streets; I glanced woefully at
door-steps, whereon to pass the night; I gazed piteously
through the windows of a cheap cook's shop, where solid
wedges of baked pudding, that would have stopped digestion
for a month, were advertised for a penny a block. How rich
should I have been if I had had a penny in my pocket! But I
had to turn away in despair.
At last the inspiration came. I remembered hearing Mr.
Ellice say that he always put up at Douglas' Hotel when he
stayed in Edinburgh. I had very little hope of success, but
I was too miserable to hesitate. It was very late, and
everybody might be gone to bed. I rang the bell. 'I want to
see the landlord.'
'Any name?' the porter asked.
'No.' The landlord came, fat, amiable looking. 'May I speak
to you in private?' He showed the way to an unoccupied room.
'I think you know Mr. Ellice?'
'Glenquoich, do you mean?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, very well - he always stays here on his way through.'
'I am his step-son; I left Glenquoich yesterday.
