his place of retreat; but it was all in vain. Half a year had passed over,

and he was still undiscovered.

'At length late one night, Heyling, of whom nothing had been seen for

many weeks before, appeared at his attorney's private residence, and

sent up word that a gentleman wished to see him instantly. Before the

attorney, who had recognised his voice from above stairs, could order

the servant to admit him, he had rushed up the staircase, and entered

the drawing-room pale and breathless. Having closed the door, to

prevent being overheard, he sank into a chair, and said, in a low voice

‘Hush! I have found him at last.’

‘No!’ said the attorney. ‘Well done, my dear sir, well done.’

‘He lies concealed in a wretched lodging in Camden Town,’ said

Heyling. ‘Perhaps it is as well we DID lose sight of him, for he has

been living alone there, in the most abject misery, all the time, and he

is poor - very poor.’

‘Very good,’ said the attorney. ‘You will have the caption made to-

morrow, of course?’

‘Yes,’ replied Heyling. ‘Stay! No! The next day. You are surprised at my

wishing to postpone it,’ he added, with a ghastly smile; ‘but I had

forgotten. The next day is an anniversary in his life: let it be done

then.’

‘Very good,’ said the attorney. ‘Will you write down instructions for

the officer?’

‘No; let him meet me here, at eight in the evening, and I will

accompany him myself.’

'They met on the appointed night, and, hiring a hackney- coach,

directed the driver to stop at that corner of the old Pancras Road, at

which stands the parish workhouse. By the time they alighted there, it

was quite dark; and, proceeding by the dead wall in front of the

Veterinary Hospital, they entered a small by-street, which is, or was at

that time, called Little College Street, and which, whatever it may be

now, was in those days a desolate place enough, surrounded by little

else than fields and ditches.

'Having drawn the travelling-cap he had on half over his face, and

muffled himself in his cloak, Heyling stopped before the meanest-

looking house in the street, and knocked gently at the door. It was at

once opened by a woman, who dropped a curtsey of recognition, and

The Pickwick Papers