weary and dispirited.

* * * * *

When we broke up at last, nothing was decided. On the one hand the
letters were not destroyed, and the Duke was still unforbidden to pursue
his researches; and, on the other there was no permission for a public
inquiry to be held. The counsels, in short, were divided; and that is
the worst state of all. The Duke said nothing to me, either at the table
or before he went out with Mr. Bedingfeld--or Mr. Mumford as he was
usually called: he appeared to consider me too young to be of any
importance, and to tolerate me only because the King wished it. I handed
to Mr. Chiffinch the reports of what folks had said to me in taverns and
elsewhere: and went away.

The days went by; and nothing of any importance appeared further. I
still frequented the company of the Jesuit Fathers, and the taverns as
before; but no more was heard, until a few days before the end of
September. On that day I was passing through the Court of Whitehall to
see if there were anything for me at Mr. Chiffinch's--for the King was
at Windsor again--when I saw Father Whitbread and Father Ireland, coming
swiftly out from the way that led to the Duke's lodgings--for he stayed
here a good deal during these days. They were talking together, and did
not see me till I was close upon them. When I greeted them, they stopped
all of a sudden.

"The very man!" said Mr. Whitbread.

Then he asked me whether I would come with them to the lodgings of Mr.
Fenwick, for they had something to say to me; and I went with them very