"As you please, sir," replied the waiter.
After a deal of trouble, the buckskins were in the hands of the waiter; our gentleman pulled on his boots again, buttoned his surtout close in front, and promising to redeem them faithfully by his servant the next morning, quitted the hotel, holding himself very erect, that no opening in the front of his surtout should discover that he was minus so very important and indispensable an article of habiliment.
Our gentleman did not walk very far; he crossed the street and entered the hotel which was opposite to the one which he had just quitted, and from which he knew that the coaches went to London.
Again he walked into the coffee-room, took his seat without his deficiencies being perceived, and calling the waiter, said to him—"The coach starts from this hotel to London, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"At what hour?"
"At half-past five exactly, sir."
"Well, then, I shall take a supper and a bed; and here," continued he, throwing his guinea down on the table, "book me an inside place by the name of Mr. William Baring."
The waiter had heard of the name before, and bowed respectfully.
"Any luggage, sir?"