Mr. Jackson seemed rather puzzled by Sam’s proceedings; but, as he had served the subpœnas, and had nothing more to say, he made a feint of putting on the one glove which he usually carried in his hand for the sake of appearances; and returned to the office to report progress.
Mr. Pickwick slept little that night; his memory had received a very disagreeable refresher on the subject of Mrs. Bardell’s action. He breakfasted betimes next morning, and, desiring Sam to accompany him, set forth towards Gray’s Inn Square.
“Sam!” said Mr. Pickwick, looking round, when they got to the end of Cheapside.
“Sir?” said Sam, stepping up to his master.
“Which way?”
“Up Newgate Street.”
Mr. Pickwick did not turn round immediately, but looked vacantly in Sam’s face for a few seconds, and heaved a deep sigh.
“What’s the matter, sir?” inquired Sam.
“This action, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, “is expected to come on on the fourteenth of next month.”
“Remarkable coincidence that ’ere, sir,” replied Sam.