“Ah, just so. Where is he to be found now?”
“Found! He works in Dennett’s-lane.”
“And where is that?”
“Not a quarter of a mile from here. Why?”
“I will give him a call. What might be his name?”
“Peace—Charles Peace. Be you going to call on ’im now?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll show ’ee where his place is.”
The landlord went to the door of the house, and pointed out the lane in question to his customer.
“There at the further end of that,” said he, “you will find a wooden shed, and in that you will see ’im at work.”