e noise of unlocking and
opening doors echoed and re-echoed on every side; heads appeared as if
by magic in every window; the porters took up their stations for the
day; the slipshod laundresses hurried off; the postman ran from house to
house; and the whole legal hive was in a bustle.

'You're early, Mr. Pickwick,' said a voice behind him.

'Ah, Mr. Lowten,' replied that gentleman, looking round, and recognising
his old acquaintance.

'Precious warm walking, isn't it?' said Lowten, drawing a Bramah key
from his pocket, with a small plug therein, to keep the dust out.

'You appear to feel it so,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling at the clerk,
who was literally red-hot.

'I've come along, rather, I can tell you,' replied Lowten. 'It went the
half hour as I came through the Polygon. I'm here before him, though, so
I don't mind.'

Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lowten extracted the plug
from the door-key; having opened the door, replugged and repocketed his
Bramah, and picked up the letters which the postman had dropped through
the box, he ushered Mr. Pickwick into the office. Here, in the twinkling
of an eye, he divested himself of his coat, put on a threadbare garment,
which he took out of a desk, hung up his hat, pulled forth a few sheets
of cartridge and blotting-paper in alternate layers, and, sticking a pen
behind his ear, rubbed his hands with an air of great satisfaction.

'There, you see, Mr. Pickwick,' he said, 'now I'm complete. I've got my
office coat on, and my pad out, and let him come as soon as he likes.
You haven't got a pinch of snuff about you, have you?'

'No, I have not,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'I'm sorry for it,' said Lowten. 'Never mind. I'll run out presently,
and get a bottle of soda. Don't I look rather queer about the eyes, Mr.
Pickwick?'

The individual appealed to, surveyed Mr. Lowten's eyes from a distance,
and expressed his opinion that no unusual queerness was perceptible in
those features.

'I'm glad of it,' said Lowten. 'We were keeping it up pretty tolerably
at the Stump last night, and I'm rather out of sorts this morning.
Perker's been about that business of yours, by the bye.'

'What business?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'Mrs. Bardell's costs?'

'No, I don't mean that,' replied Mr. Lowten. 'About getting
that customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the
bill-discounter for, on your account--to get him out of the Fleet, you
know--about getting him