His lordship looked very much discomposed, and blew his nose violently. “I never, in the whole course of my experience, recollect such a circumstance before,” he remarked. “It is very annoying, and very unfortunate. It leaves me without any option in the matter. The court must stand adjourned till ten o’clock to-morrow morning.”
CHAPTER III.
A BOTTLE OF BURGUNDY
“There goes ten of ’em. Old Hoskyns can never want me at this time of night. At all events, if he don’t come soon he won’t find me here. If a man can’t call the time his own after ten o’clock at night, he’s no better than a slave.”
The speaker was Jabez Creede, and he was sitting, with a short black pipe in his mouth, over a handful of fire—although the evening was a summer one—in the meanly furnished room which he called his home. In one hand he held a crumpled scrap of paper, the writing on which he now proceeded to read over again for the twentieth time.
“Please not to be out of the way this evening, as I may possibly want you on important business.—T. Hoskyns.”
“Ugh!” growled Creede in disgust, as he flung the paper into the fire. “One might work one’s heartstrings out for old Hoskyns, and there would never be an extra half quid for a poor devil on pay-day. I wish Mr. Bristow would take to the business. He’s one of the right sort, he is. I wish——”
Here he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Presently his landlady entered. “Mr. Hoskyns is waiting below,” said the woman. “He wants you to put on your hat and coat, and go with him.”
Creede growled, put down his pipe, rose, yawned, stretched himself, inducted himself into a shabby grease-stained brown overcoat, pulled his battered hat over his gloomy brows, and stumbled downstairs. He had been drinking heavily during the day—indeed, the days when he did not drink heavily were few and far between—and both his gait and his tongue were in some measure affected by his potations.
Mr. Hoskyns was standing at the door, carrying in one hand the old blue bag with which Creede had been familiar for years.
“Make haste, man alive,” said the lawyer, impatiently. “I want you to go with me to the prison. Some most important evidence in our favour has just turned up, and I must see Mr. Dering at once. Here, catch hold of this.”