Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plunged
down the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, “‘Tis that scurvy
villain that claimed he was his son.  I have lost thee, my poor little
mad master--it is a bitter thought--and I had come to love thee so!  No!
by book and bell, _not_ lost!  Not lost, for I will ransack the land
till I find thee again.