that before he took any other steps it
would be advisable to see, and hold personal converse with, the three
gentlemen with whom it was proposed to quarter him, he made the best of
his way to the third flight.

After groping about in the gallery for some time, attempting in the
dim light to decipher the numbers on the different doors, he at
length appealed to a pot-boy, who happened to be pursuing his morning
occupation of gleaning for pewter.

'Which is twenty-seven, my good fellow?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Five doors farther on,' replied the pot-boy. 'There's the likeness of a
man being hung, and smoking the while, chalked outside the door.'

Guided by this direction, Mr. Pickwick proceeded slowly along the
gallery until he encountered the 'portrait of a gentleman,' above
described, upon whose countenance he tapped, with the knuckle of his
forefinger--gently at first, and then audibly. After repeating this
process several times without effect, he ventured to open the door and
peep in.

There was only one man in the room, and he was leaning out of window as
far as he could without overbalancing himself, endeavouring, with great
perseverance, to spit upon the crown of the hat of a personal friend on
the parade below. As neither speaking, coughing, sneezing, knocking, nor
any other ordinary mode of attracting attention, made this person aware
of the presence of a visitor, Mr. Pickwick, after some delay, stepped
up to the window, and pulled him gently by the coat tail. The individual
brought in his head and shoulders with great swiftness, and surveying
Mr. Pickwick from head to foot, demanded in a surly tone what
the--something beginning with a capital H--he wanted.

'I believe,' said Mr. Pickwick, consulting his ticket--'I believe this
is twenty-seven in the third?'

'Well?' replied the gentleman.

'I have come here in consequence of receiving this bit of paper,'
rejoined Mr. Pickwick.

'Hand it over,' said the gentleman.

Mr. Pickwick complied.

'I think Roker might have chummed you somewhere else,' said Mr. Simpson
(for it was the leg), after a very discontented sort of a pause.

Mr. Pickwick thought so also; but, under all the circumstances, he
considered it a matter of sound policy to be silent. Mr. Simpson mused
for a few moments after this, and then, thrusting his head out of the
window, gave a shrill whistle, and pronounced some word aloud, several
times. What the word was, Mr. Pickwick could not disti