-crowds of people--full room--hard work--very!"

It was Jingle. Mr. Pickwick indignantly faced him, but the impostor, at
the first glance turned and fled. Mr. Pickwick, after hurriedly
questioning his hostess, who told him Mr. Fitz-Marshall lived at an inn
in a village not far away, left the entertainment instantly, bent on
pursuit. With Sam Weller, his faithful servant, he took the next
stage-coach and nightfall found him lodged in a room in that very inn,
while Sam set himself to discover Jingle's whereabouts.

With the money Mr. Wardle had paid him Jingle had set up as a gentleman:
he even had a servant--a sneaking fellow with a sallow, solemn face and
lank hair, named Job Trotter, who could burst into tears whenever it
suited his purpose and whose favorite occupation seemed to be reading a
hymn-book. Sam Weller soon picked an acquaintance with Job, and it was
not long before the latter confided to him that Jingle his master (whom
he pretended to think very wicked) had plotted to run away that same
night, with a beautiful young lady from a boarding-school just outside
the village, at which he was a frequent caller. Job said his master was
such a villain that he had made up his mind to betray him.

Sam took Job to Mr. Pickwick, to whom he repeated his tale, adding that
he and his master were to be let into the school building at ten
o'clock, and that if Mr. Pickwick would climb over the garden wall and
tap on the kitchen door a little before midnight, he, Job, would let him
in to catch Jingle in the very act of eloping.

This seemed to Mr. Pickwick a good plan, and he proceeded to act upon
it. In good time that night Sam hoisted him over the high garden-wall of
the school, after which he returned to the inn, while his master
stealthily approached the building.

It was very still. When the church chimes struck half-past eleven Mr.
Pickwick tapped on the door. Instead of being opened by Job, however, a
servant-girl appeared with a candle. Mr. Pickwick had presence of mind
enough to hide behind the door as she opened it. She concluded the noise
must have been the cat.

Mr. Pickwick did not know what was best to do. To make matters worse, a
thunder-storm broke and he had no refuge from the rain. He was thoroughly
drenched before he dared repeat the signal.

This time windows were thrown open and frightened voices demanded "Who's
there?" Mr. Pickwick was in a dreadful situation. He could not retreat,
and when the do