But, when left to his own reflections, Nigel could not help feeling
solitude nearly as irksome as the company of Sir Mungo Malagrowther.
The total wreck of his fortune,--which seemed now to be rendered
unavoidable by the loss of the royal warrant, that had afforded him
the means of redeeming his paternal estate,--was an unexpected and
additional blow. When he had seen the warrant he could not precisely
remember; but was inclined to think, it was in the casket when he took
out money to pay the miser for his lodgings at Whitefriars. Since
then, the casket had been almost constantly under his own eye, except
during the short time he was separated from his baggage by the arrest
in Greenwich Park. It might, indeed, have been taken out at that time,
for he had no reason to think either his person or his property was in
the hands of those who wished him well; but, on the other hand, the
locks of the strong-box had sustained no violence that he could
observe, and, being of a particular and complicated construction, he
thought they could scarce be opened without an instrument made on
purpose, adapted to their peculiarities, and for this there had been
no time. But, speculate as he would on the matter, it was clear that
this important document was gone, and probable that it had passed into
no friendly hands. "Let it be so," said Nigel to himself; "I am
scarcely worse off respecting my prospects of fortune, than when I
first reached this accursed city.
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