“Not a soul in sight but lawyers’ clerks,” he reported.
“Very well; just tell your father that, as it is a fine morning, you are taking a turn with me.”
Barton’s friend did as he wished, and presently the pair had some serious conversation.
“I’ll do exactly as you suggest, and explain to my father,” said the young lawyer as they separated.
“Thanks; it is so much easier for you to explain than for a stranger like myself,” said Barton, and strolled westward by way of Co vent Garden.
At the noted establishment of Messrs. Aminadab, theatrical costumiers, Barton stopped, went in, was engaged some time with the Messrs. Aminadab, and finally had a cab called for him, and drove home with a pretty bulky parcel.
At five minutes to twelve on the following day, a tall, burly, mahogany-colored mariner, attired, for the occasion, in a frock-coat and hat, appeared in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He seemed to be but ill acquainted with those coasts, and mooned about for some minutes before he reached the door of Messrs. Wright Then he rang, the door was opened, and he was admitted into the presence of the partners.
“I have come, gentlemen, in answer to your letter,” he said with a Northern burr, bowing awkwardly, and checking a disposition to salute by touching his forelock.
His eyes wandered round the room, where he saw no one but the partners, with whom he was already acquainted, and a foreign-looking gentleman—a gentleman with hay-colored hair, a soft hat, spectacles, and a tow-colored beard. He had a mild, short-sighted expression, a pasty complexion, and the air of one who smoked too much.