But Mr.Brock had: for he had seen many times a gilt coach with a pair of fat white horses ambling in the neighbourhood of the town, and the Captain on his black steed caracolling majestically by its side; and he had remarked a fat, pudgy, pale-haired woman treading heavily down the stairs of the Assembly, leaning on the Captain's arm: all these Mr.Brock had seen, not without reflection.

Indeed, the Count one day, in great good-humour, had slapped him on the shoulder and told him that he was about speedily to purchase a regiment; when, by his great gods, Mr.Brock should have a pair of colours.

Perhaps this promise occasioned his silence to Mrs.Catherine hitherto; perhaps he never would have peached at all; and perhaps, therefore, this history would never have been written, but for a small circumstance which occurred at this period.
"What can you want with that drunken old Corporal always about your quarters ?" said Mr.Trippet to the Count one day, as they sat over their wine, in the midst of a merry company, at the Captain's rooms.
"What!" said he.

"Old Brock?
The old thief has been more useful to me than many a better man.

He is as brave in a row as a lion, as cunning in intrigue as a fox; he can nose a dun at an inconceivable distance, and scent out a pretty woman be she behind ever so many stone walls.