heterogeneous sorts; some of them without any docket or direction to
lead to a knowledge of their contents; others written upon in such
a manner as to give an erroneous notion of their nature; so that it
was necessary to untie every paper separately. At last, when they had
opened, as they thought, every paper, and, wearied and in despair,
were just on the point of giving up the search, Lord Colambre spied a
bundle of old newspapers at the bottom of a trunk.

"They are only old Vienna Gazettes; I looked at them," said Sir James.

Lord Colambre, upon this assurance, was going to throw them into the
trunk again; but observing that the bundle had not been untied, he
opened it, and withinside of the newspapers he found a rough copy of
the ambassador's journal, and with it the packet directed to Ralph
Reynolds, sen., Esq., Old Court, Suffolk, per favour of his excellency
Earl *****--a note on the cover, signed O'Halloran, stating when
received by him, and, the date of the day when delivered to the
ambassador--seals unbroken. Our hero was in such a transport of joy
at the sight of this packet, and his friend Sir James Brooke so full
of his congratulations, that they forgot to curse the ambassador's
carelessness, which had been the cause of so much evil.

The next thing to be done was to deliver the packet to Ralph Reynolds,
Old Court, Suffolk. But when Lord Colambre arrived at Old Court,
Suffolk, he found all the gates locked, and no admittance to be had.
At last an old woman came out of the porter's lodge, who said Mr.
Reynolds was not there, and she could not say where he was. After
our hero had opened her heart by the present of half a guinea, she
explained, that she "could not _justly_ say where he was, because that
he never let any body of his own people know where he was any day;