There was something in the sitting figure that made the youth lift his hand and remove his cap, and say, in a low, respectful voice, "Can you tell me, Sir, where to find Mr.Abel Newt ?" The long, pale, bony fingers still listlessly drummed.

The hard eyes rested upon the questioner for a few moments; then, without any evidence of interest, the old man answered simply, "No," and looked away as if he had forgotten the stranger's presence.
"Here's a note for him from General Belch." The gray head beckoned mechanically toward the other room, as if all business were to be transacted there; and the young man bowing again, with a vague sense of awe, went in to the outer office and handed the note to the book-keeper.
It was very short and simple, as Abel found when he read it: "MY DEAR SIR,--I have just heard of your misfortunes.

Don't be dismayed.
In the shindy of life every body must have his head broken two or three times, and in our country 'tis a man's duty to fall on his feet.

Such men as Abel Newt are not made to fail.

I want to see you immediately.
"Yours very truly, "ARCULARIUS BELCH.".