With elbows braced back, hands clenched near his armpits, and chest protruded, he scudded along, while close at his heels lumbered a large-limbed, heavy, yellow mustached young man, who seemed to feel the exercise a good deal more than his senior.

On they dashed, helter-skelter, until they pulled up panting at the office where the lawyer of the Westmacotts was to be found.
"There now!" cried the Admiral in triumph.

"What d'ye think of that?
Nothing wrong in the engine-room, eh ?" "You seem fit enough, sir.
"Blessed if I believe the swab was a certificated doctor at all.

He was flying false colors, or I am mistaken." "They keep the directories and registers in this eating-house," said Westmacott.

"We'll go and look him out." They did so, but the medical rolls contained no such name as that of Dr.
Proudie, of Bread Street.
"Pretty villainy this!" cried the Admiral, thumping his chest.