called upon to state at present. The possibility
of going to sleep, unless it were ticking gently beneath his pillow,
or in the watch-pocket over his head, had never entered Mr. Pickwick's
brain. So as it was pretty late now, and he was unwilling to ring his
bell at that hour of the night, he slipped on his coat, of which he had
just divested himself, and taking the japanned candlestick in his hand,
walked quietly downstairs. The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the
more stairs there seemed to be to descend, and again and again, when Mr.
Pickwick got into some narrow passage, and began to congratulate himself
on having gained the ground-floor, did another flight of stairs appear
before his astonished eyes. At last he reached a stone hall, which he
remembered to have seen when he entered the house. Passage after passage
did he explore; room after room did he peep into; at length, as he was
on the point of giving up the search in despair, he opened the door of
the identical room in which he had spent the evening, and beheld his
missing property on the table.

Mr. Pickwick seized the watch in triumph, and proceeded to retrace his
steps to his bedchamber. If his progress downward had been attended
with difficulties and uncertainty, his journey back was infinitely more
perplexing. Rows of doors, garnished with boots of every shape, make,
and size, branched off in every possible direction. A dozen times did
he softly turn the handle of some bedroom door which resembled his own,
when a gruff cry from within of 'Who the devil's that?' or 'What do
you want here?' caused him to steal away, on tiptoe, with a perfectly
marvellous celerity. He was reduced to the verge of despair, when an
open door attracted his attention. He peeped in. Right at last! There
were the two beds, whose situation he perfectly remembered, and the fire
still burning. His candle, not a long one when he first received it, had
flickered away in the drafts of air through which he had passed and sank
into the socket as he closed the door after him. 'No matter,' said Mr.
Pickwick, 'I can undress myself just as well by the light of the fire.'

The bedsteads stood one on each side of the door; and on the inner side
of each was a little path, terminating in a rush-bottomed chair, just
wide enough to admit of a person's getting into or out of bed, on that
side, if he or she thought proper. Having carefully drawn the curtains
of his bed on the outside, Mr. Pickwick