"As soon as the kittle biles down stairs," answered the servant, in a surly tone, as she turned to leave the room.
"And how long will that be?" demanded Curtis.
"Don't know: the kitchen fire ain't alight yet:"—and she hobbled away.
In a fit of desperation the prisoner addressed himself to his toilette: but the feeling of utter discomfort still clung to him. The water seemed thick and clammy, instead of cool and refreshing; and the towel was so small that it became saturated in a few moments, and he was compelled to dry his face with a corner of one of the sheets. Having no nail brush, he could not cleanse his hands properly; and the want of a comb left his hair matted and disordered. In fact, he positively felt more uncomfortable and dirty after his ablutions than he did before he began them; and that disagreeable sensation kept him dispirited and wretched.
He walked about the room, examining all the pictures one after the other, until he became as thoroughly acquainted with their subjects as if he had lived for years in that room. He then posted himself at one of the windows, and watched the people passing up and down the street. It was now nine o'clock, and the law-clerks were proceeding to their respective offices. Seedy-looking men were hurrying along with mysterious slips of paper in their hands; and now and then a better-attired person, in a suit of black, would be seen wending his way towards the Chancery Court, carrying the blue bag of his master, a barrister. Small parties of threes or fours would likewise pass up the lane, affording to the initiated the irresistible idea—which was also the true one—of tipstaves conducting insolvents to the court in Portugal Street.
At the public house, opposite the barred window from which Curtis was gazing, a small knot of very shabby men had collected; and it required but little knowledge of the specimens of animated nature in Chancery Lane, to recognise their especial calling. In fact they were individuals who belonged to the outworks of the strong entrenchments of the law,—process-servers, sheriff's-officers' assistants, and men who hired themselves out to be left in possession at dwellings where executions were levied. When not actively engaged, they regularly haunted the public-houses, of which they seemed the very door-posts; and if they stepped inside to take something, which was very often indeed, they appeared on intimate terms with the landlord, said "Miss" to the bar-girl, and called the waiter by his Christian name. They had a dirty, seedy, mean, and cringing look about them; and yet, if not adequately recompensed by the unfortunate victims of the law with whom they had to deal, they would become doggedly insolent and grossly abusive.
Half-an-hour passed away; and Chancery Lane grew more attractive. A few barristers, in all the imposing dignity of the black gown and the awful wisdom of the wig, were seen moving along to the Rolls' Court: well-dressed attorneys alighted from their gigs, cabs, or phaetons at the doors of their offices;—and articled clerks, having thrown away their cigars when within view of the windows of their places of business, made up for lost time by cutting briskly over the pavement, flourishing short sticks, and complacently surveying their polished boots, tight-fitting trousers, and flash waistcoats.
Frank Curtis sighed as he beheld so many, many persons in the enjoyment of freedom;—but his mournful reverie was at length broken by the entrance of the old woman with the breakfast-tray. His throat was parched, and he had been unable to drink the water: he now, therefore, eagerly applied himself to the tea. But it was wretched stuff; and even extreme thirst could not render it palatable. He tried to eat a piece of toast; but the butter was so rank that his heart heaved against it. He broke open an egg: it however tasted of straw, and nearly made him sick.
Having forced himself to swallow a couple of cups of tea, Frank rang the bell and ordered the woman to bring him a sheet of paper. This command was complied with, after a long delay; and, by the aid of a worn down stump of a pen and ink which flowed like soot and water, Frank managed to pen a brief note to a lawyer whom he knew, and who dwelt in Carey Street hard by. After a great deal of trouble, a messenger was found, who, for the moderate reward of eighteen pence, undertook to convey the note to its place of destination—just fifty yards distant; and in the course of half an hour, Mr. Pepperton, the legal limb alluded to, made his appearance in the shape of a short, thin, sallow-faced man, with small piercing eyes, and very compressed lips.
"Well, Mr. Curtis," said the lawyer, as he entered the room; "got into a mess—eh?"