One of the persons whom the story chiefly concerned, Colonel Altamont,
was absent from London, when Morgan was thus made acquainted with his
history. The valet knew of Sir Francis Clavering's Shepherd's Inn
haunt, and walked thither an hour or two after the baronet and
Pendennis had had their conversation together. But that bird was
flown; Colonel Altamont had received his Derby winnings and was gone
to the Continent. The fact of his absence was exceedingly vexatious to
Mr. Morgan. "He'll drop all that money at the gambling-shops on the
Rhind," thought Morgan, "and I might have had a good bit of it. It's
confounded annoying to think he's gone and couldn't have waited a few
days longer." Hope, triumphant or deferred, ambition or
disappointment, victory or patient ambush, Morgan bore all alike, with
similar equable countenance. Until the proper day came, the major's
boots were varnished and his hair was curled, his early cup of tea was
brought to his bedside, his oaths, rebukes, and senile satire borne,
with silent, obsequious fidelity.
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