Being come into the narrow, dingy street, he suddenly espied Mr. Shrig who leaned against a convenient post and stared with round eyes at the tumble-down houses opposite, while upon his usually placid brow he wore a frown of deep perplexity.
"So you followed me?" exclaimed Barnabas.
"V'y, sir, since you mention it,—I did take that 'ere liberty. This is a werry on-savory neighborhood at most times, an' the air's werry bad for—fob-seals, say,—and cravat-sparklers at all times. Sich things 'as a 'abit o' wanishing theirselves avay." Having said which, Mr. Shrig walked on beside Barnabas as one who profoundly meditates, for his brow was yet furrowed deep with thought.
"Why so silent, Mr. Shrig?" inquired Barnabas as they crossed
Blackfriars Bridge.
"Because I'm vorking out a problem, sir. For some time I've been trying to add two and two together, and now I'm droring my conclusions. So you know Old Nick the cobbler, do you, sir?"
"I didn't—an hour ago."
"Sir, when you vos in his shop, I took the liberty o' peeping in at the winder."
"Indeed?"
"And I seen that theer 'andsome gal."
"Oh, did you?"