THE SEALED PACKET
Mr. Double did not hurry after his client, but gave him a good ten minutes' start, while he made Samuel search the blue-bag for some imaginary papers, and then, bidding him shoulder his hated burden, went forth, much reassured by the absence of commotion in the Square.
The posse had collected outside the house, and eyed the lawyer and his clerk suspiciously. There was a moment of expectation as they recognized the companions of their quarry, but Double and his satellite were not molested, and at a short distance they separated, and Samuel pursued his westward way alone. He did not go far, but leaving his bag in charge of a friendly law-stationer, scurried back to Lincoln's Inn, and slipping through the constables, ran up-stairs and knocked timidly at the door of Mr. Perry's private sanctum.
"What do you want here, fellow?" demanded Perry, opening the door and discovering the little, cringing, shabby figure shrinking into the shadow. "This is not the clerk's office."
"Could I—can I—speak a word with the—the lord?" stammered Samuel.
Mr. Perry looked very searchingly at him for a minute or so. Then he relaxed a little and made room for him to pass into the room, which he did, smoothing his flaxen wig over his forehead with his moist palm, and evidently in a desperately uneasy frame of mind.
"Do you want to speak to Me?" demanded Lord Beachcombe, in a haughty voice, that sounded so terrible to the clerk, that he could hardly stammer out, "Y—yes."
"And what have you to say?" inquired Mr. Perry, in a more encouraging tone. "Speak out, man, don't be frightened; nobody will hurt you."
"Ah! but he would, if he knew," quavered Samuel, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"You mean Mr. Double? I suppose you want to tell us something he is concealing from us, eh? Well, we will protect you from him," said Mr. Perry magnanimously.