"There's only one thing in society," said Todd, "can come near it.—Sit here, sir."
"What's that?"
"Why, a drunken woman, sir."
"Werry good—Werry good."
Some one made an effort to enter the shop, but the bolt which Todd had shot into its place effectually resisted anything short of violence sufficient to break the door completely down.
"Mr. Todd—Mr. Todd," cried a voice.
"In a moment, sir," said Todd. "In a moment."
He darted into the parlour. There was a loud bang in the shop as though something had fallen, and then a half-stifled shriek. Todd reappeared. The shaving chair in which the young man had been sitting was empty. Todd took up his hat, and threw it into the parlour. He then unbolted the door, and admitted a man who glanced around him, and then, without a word, backed out again, looking rather pale. Todd did not hear him mutter to himself, as he reached the street—
"Sir Richard will be frantic at this. I must post off to him at once, and let him know that it was none of our faults. What an awkward affair to be sure."