He bought in at the sale a few heirlooms and articles of furniture-- who does not cling, at the last moment, to something of this kind?-- and rented a couple of unfurnished rooms in Hillsborough to keep them in. He fixed the day of his departure, arranged his goods, and packed his clothes. Then he got a letter of credit on Paris, and went about the town buying numerous articles of cutlery.
But this last simple act led to strange consequences. He was seen and followed; and in the dead of the evening, as he was cording with his own hands a box containing a few valuables, a heavy step mounted the stair, and there was a rude knock at the door.
Mr. Coventry felt rather uncomfortable, but he said, "Come in."
The door was opened, and there stood Sam Cole.
Coventry received him ill. He looked up from his packing and said, "What on earth do you want, sir?"
But it was not Cole's business to be offended. "Well, sir," said he, "I've been looking out for you some time, and I saw you at our place; so I thought I'd come and tell you a bit o' news."
"It is about him you know of; begins with a hel."
"Curse him! I don't want to hear about him. I'm leaving the country. Well, what is it?"