'All right,' said Charley; 'Outerman, I suppose; isn't it?'
'All right,' said the bailiff.
And away the two walked together to a sponging-house in Cursitor Street.
Charley had been arrested at the suit of Mr. Outerman, the tailor. He perfectly understood the fact, and made no special objection to following the bailiff. One case was at any rate off his mind; he could not now, be his will to do so ever so good, keep his appointment with Norah Geraghty. Perhaps it was quite as well for him to be arrested just at this moment, as be left at liberty. It must have come sooner or later. So he walked on with the bailiff not without some feeling of consolation.
The man had suggested to him a cab; but Charley had told him, without the slightest mauvaise honte, that he had not about him the means of paying for a cab. The man again suggested that perhaps he had better go home and get some money, as he would find it in Cursitor Street very desirable to have some. To this Charley replied that neither had he any money at home.
'That's blue,' said the man.
'It is rather blue,' said Charley; and on they went very amicably arm-in-arm.
We need not give any detailed description of Charley's prison-house. He was luckily not detained there so long as to make it necessary that we should become acquainted with his fellow-captives, or even have much intercourse with his jailers. He was taken to the sponging-house, and it was there imparted to him that he had better send for two things—first of all for money, which was by far the more desirable of the two; and secondly, for bail, which even if forthcoming was represented as being at best but a dubious advantage.
'There's Mrs. Davis, she'd bail you, of course, and willing,' said the bailiff.
'Mrs. Davis!' said Charley, surprised that the man should know aught of his personal acquaintances.