HOW I WENT UPON AN EXPEDITION WITH MR. SHRIG
I had been ringing ineffectually at the bell of my chambers for perhaps five minutes and was about to visit the adjacent mews in quest of my groom, when a voice spoke my name, and turning about, I beheld Mr. Shrig, the Bow Street officer.
"Mr. Werricker, sir," said he, touching his low-crowned, wide-brimmed hat with a thick forefinger, "it ain't no manner o' use you a-ringin' o' that theer bell, because there ain't nobody to answer same, your young man Clegg 'aving took a little 'oliday, d'ye see, sir."
"A holiday, Mr. Shrig! Pray how do you know?"
"By obserwation, sir. I've a powerful gift that way, sir—from a infant."
"This is very extraordinary behaviour in Clegg!"
"But then, sir, your young man is a rayther extraordinary young man. 'Owsoever he's gone, sir, and I appre'end as he ain't a-comin' back—judgin' by vat 'e says in 'is letter."
"What letter?"
"The letter as 'e's left for you a-layin' on your desk this werry minute along o' my stick as I 'appened to forget—but you'll be vantin' to gain hadmittance, I expect, sir."
"I do."