“You couldn’t catch anything of it?” asked Mr. Walters.

“No, I missed that; they talked too low for me to hear.”

After reflecting a few moments, Mr. Walters said:  “Not a word of this is to be lisped anywhere except with my permission, and by my direction.  Have you had your dinner?”

“No, sir,” was the prompt reply.

“I want to despatch a note to Mr. Ellis, by you, if it won’t trouble you too much.  Can you oblige me?”

“Oh, yes, sir, by all means,” replied Kinch, “I’ll go there with pleasure.”

“Then whilst I’m writing,” continued Mr. Walters, “you can be eating your dinner, that will economize time, you know.”

Kinch followed the servant who answered the bell into the dining-room which Mr. Walters had just left.  On being supplied with a knife and fork, he helped himself bountifully to the roast duck, then pouring out a glass of wine, he drank with great enthusiasm, to “our honoured self,” which proceeding caused infinite amusement to the two servants who were peeping at him through the dining-room door.  “Der-licious,” exclaimed Kinch, depositing his glass upon the table; “guess I’ll try another;” and suiting the action to the word, he refilled his glass, and dispatched its contents in the wake of the other.  Having laboured upon the duck until his appetite was somewhat appeased, he leant back in his chair and suffered his plate to be changed for another, which being done, he made an attack upon a peach pie, and nearly demolished it outright.

This last performance brought his meal to a conclusion, and with a look of weariness, he remarked, “I don’t see how it is—­but as soon as I have eat for a little while my appetite is sure to leave me—­now I can’t eat a bit more.  But the worst thing is walking down to Mr. Ellis’s.  I don’t feel a bit like it, but I suppose I must;” and reluctantly rising from the table, he returned to the parlour, where he found Mr. Walters folding the note he had promised to deliver.

As soon as he had despatched Kinch on his errand, Mr. Walters put on his hat and walked to the office of the mayor.

“Is his honour in?” he asked of one of the police, who was lounging in the anteroom.

“Yes, he is—­what do you want with him?” asked the official, in a rude tone.

“That, sir, is none of your business,” replied Mr. Walters; “if the mayor is in, hand him this card, and say I wish to see him.”

Somewhat awed by Mr. Walters’s dignified and decided manner, the man went quickly to deliver his message, and returned with an answer that his honour would be obliged to Mr. Walters if he would step into his office.

On following the officer, he was ushered into a small room—­the private office of the chief magistrate of the city.

“Take a seat, sir,” said the mayor, politely, “it is some time since we have met.  I think I had the pleasure of transacting business with you quite frequently some years back if I am not mistaken.”