London next day; until when he deferred any account of his proceedings. This note was hastily made into a parcel, and despatched to the bar per Mr. Samuel Weller.
Sam left it with the landlady, and was returning to pull his master's boots off, after drying himself by the kitchen fire, when, glancing casually through a half-opened door, he was arrested by the sight of a gentleman with a sandy head who had a large bundle of newspapers lying on the table before him, and was perusing the leading article of one with a settled sneer which curled up his nose and all his other features into a majestic expression of haughty contempt.
"Hallo!" said Sam, "I ought to know that 'ere head and them features; the eye-glass, too, and the broad brimmed tile! Eatansvill to vit, or I'm a Roman."
Sam was taken with a troublesome cough, at once, for the purpose of attracting the gentleman's attention; the gentleman starting at the sound, raised his head and his eye-glass, and disclosed to view the profound and thoughtful features of Mr. Pott, of the Eatanswill Gazette.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Sam, advancing with a bow, "my master's here, Mr. Pott."
"Hush, hush!" cried Pott, drawing Sam into the room, and closing the door, with a countenance of mysterious dread and apprehension.
"Wot's the matter, sir?" inquired Sam, looking vacantly about him.
"Not a whisper of my name," replied Pott; "this is a buff neighbourhood. If the excited and irritable populace knew I was here, I should be torn to pieces."
"No! Vould you, sir?" inquired Sam.
"I should be the victim of their fury," replied Pott. "Now, young man, what of your master?"
"He's a stopping here to-night on his vay to town, vith a couple of friends," replied Sam.
"Is Mr. Winkle one of them?" inquired Pott, with a slight frown.
