Mr. Figgins, as you may guess, was seen no more that day.

Upon the day following the events just related, Jack received letters from home.

And among them was one which created no little excitement amongst the nearest friends of Jack Harkaway.

"Do you think it probable that he'll come?"

"I shouldn't wonder," said Harry Girdwood.

"I should like to see his dear old face again," said Jack.

"I'll bet a penny that we shall see him here yet; if not here, at least at our next stage," said Harry.

"It would be a rare treat to talk with someone who had seen our dear folks at home."

"It would indeed. I hope he will come."

And who did they hope would come?

Can you not guess reader? No.

Then read on, and you will learn who it was and what were the reasons which were to bring a friend from home roaming to this distant sh.o.r.e to meet Jack and his friends.

CHAPTER LXIV.

THE SAPIENT DOCTOR MUGGINS CAME IN HASTE--IMPEDIMENTS IN THE WAY OF THE PRESCRIPTION--DWELLS ON ARTIFICIAL LIMBS--OLD-REMINISCENCES--THE TORMENTOR.

Reader, we will return for a little time to our old friend, Mole, in England.

Mr. Mole was sad.

For so many years of his life had old Isaac Mole led a wandering career, that he found it exceedingly difficult, not to say irksome, to settle down to the prosy existence which they had all dropped into.

He never complained, it is true.

But he fell into a sort of settled melancholy, which nothing could shake off, and even grew neglectful of the bottle.

His friends grew anxious.

They wished him to take medical advice.

He resisted all persuasion stoutly.

So they had recourse to artifice, and invited an eminent medical man to their house as a visitor.

And then under the guise of a friendly chat, the doctor took his observations.

But the peculiar ailment, if ailment it could be called, of Isaac Mole, completely baffled the man of science at first.

It was only in a casual conversation that, being an observing man, he discovered the real truth.

"Our patient wants a roving commission," said the physician to himself.

And then he communicated his own convictions to old Jack.

"I scarcely believe it possible, doctor," said Jack.

But the doctor was positive.

"Nothing will do him any good but to get on the move; I'm as sure of that as I am that he has no physical ailment."

"What's to be done then?" demanded Harkaway. "He can't travel alone."

"I don't know that," said the doctor; "he's hale and wiry enough. The only difficulty that I can see, is Mrs. Mole."

"I'll undertake to get over that," said Jack.

"You will?"

"Yes."

"It is settled then," said the physician, with a smile.

"Good."

"What would do him more good than all the physic in the world, would be to send him after your son."

"My Jack!"

"Yes."

"Impossible. Why, Jack is _en route_ for Turkey."

"What of that?" coolly inquired the doctor.

"Consider the distance, my dear doctor."

"Pshaw, sir. Distance is nothing nowadays. It was a very different thing when I was a boy. Take my word for it, Mr. Harkaway, our patient will jump at the chance."

"He's very much attached to my roving boy."

"I know it," returned the doctor. "Never a day pa.s.ses but he speaks of him; I declare that I never had a single interview with Mr. Mole, but that he has managed somehow to turn the conversation upon your son and his pranks."