As Mr Pecksniff passed, a person coming in the opposite direction stopped to look after him with great interest and respect, almost with veneration; and the landlord bouncing out of the house, as if he had seen him too, joined this person, and spoke to him, and shook his head gravely, and looked after Mr Pecksniff likewise.
Martin and Mark sat staring at each other, as if they could not believe it; but there stood the landlord, and the other man still. In spite of the indignation with which this glimpse of Mr Pecksniff had inspired him, Martin could not help laughing heartily. Neither could Mark.
‘We must inquire into this!’ said Martin. ‘Ask the landlord in, Mark.’
Mr Tapley retired for that purpose, and immediately returned with their large-headed host in safe convoy.
‘Pray, landlord!’ said Martin, ‘who is that gentleman who passed just now, and whom you were looking after?’
The landlord poked the fire as if, in his desire to make the most of his answer, he had become indifferent even to the price of coals; and putting his hands in his pockets, said, after inflating himself to give still further effect to his reply:
‘That, gentlemen, is the great Mr Pecksniff! The celebrated architect, gentlemen!’
He looked from one to the other while he said it, as if he were ready to assist the first man who might be overcome by the intelligence.
‘The great Mr Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gentlemen.’ said the landlord, ‘has come down here, to help to lay the first stone of a new and splendid public building.’
‘Is it to be built from his designs?’ asked Martin.