'I have brought a letter, sir, from a young lady to Madam Lambert. She is a relative of yours, and wants to find a place in Bristol.'
'Relative, relative—tut, tut. Ah! I see you are Henderson's nephew. Well, judging from his experience, relatives are like to be more plague than profit.'
'Miss Palmer's mother was first cousin of Madam Lambert's, sir.'
'Oh! Well, I know nothing about it, but hand up the letter, and I will see my mother has it, though I don't promise you she will think anything of it.'
'I will call back for an answer, sir, about one o'clock.'
'Very well, very well. Here comes Mrs Symes, and I suppose we shall now have a chance of breakfast.'
The open door now admitted a large and portly personage, who came every morning to perform the duties of the household, assisted by the footboy Sam, who wore a suit of livery and answered the door to clients who might prefer to see lawyer Lambert at his private house rather than in the somewhat cramped office in Corn Street.
Mr Lambert disappeared upstairs as the woman began to throw open shutters and draw up blinds and let the light of the morning into the house.
Jack Henderson was not invited to breakfast, and after his early walk he was very hungry. He was just turning out of the square, towards the river, when he heard footsteps behind him.
Presently a hand was laid on his arm, and a voice said,—