y umble servant, sir," said Mr. Bows, making a sarcastic bow,
and lifting his old hat from his forehead.

"I wish you a good day," Arthur answered sulkily. "Don't let me detain
you, or give you the trouble to follow me again. I am in a hurry, sir.
Good evening."

Bows thought Pen had some reason for hurrying to his rooms. "Where are
they?" exclaimed the old gentleman. "You know whom I mean. They're not
in your rooms, sir, are they? They told Bolton they were going to church
at the Temple, they weren't there. They are in your chambers: they
mustn't stay in your chambers, Mr. Pendennis."

"Damn it, sir!" cried out Pendennis, fiercely. "Come and see if they
are in my chambers: here's the court and the door--come in and see." And
Bows, taking off his hat and bowing first, followed the young man.

They were not in Pen's chambers, as we know. But when the gardens
were closed, the two women, who had r had but a melancholy evening's
amusement, walked away sadly with the children, and they entered into
Lamb Court, and stood under the lamp-post which cheerfully ornaments the
centre of that quadrangle, and looked up to the third floor of the house
where Pendennis's chambers were, and where they saw a light presently
kindled. Then this couple of fools went away, the children dragging
wearily after them, and returned to Mr. Bolton, who was immersed in
rum-and-water at his lodge in Shepherd's Inn.

Mr. Bows looked round the blank room which the young man occupied, and
which had received but very few ornaments or additions since the last
time we saw them. Warrington's old bookcase and battered library, Pen's
writing-table with its litter of papers, presented an aspect cheerless
enough. "Will you like to look in the bedrooms, Mr. Bows, and see if my
victims are there?" he said bitterly; "or whether I have made away with
the little girls, and hid them in the coal-hole?"

"Your word is sufficient, Mr. Pendennis," the other said in his sad
tone. "You say they are not here, and I know they are not. And I hope
they never have been here, and never will come."

"Upon my word, sir, you are very good, to choose my acquaintances for
me," Arthur said, in a haughty tone; "and to suppose that anybody would
be the worse for my society. I remember you, and owe you kindness from
old times, Mr. Bows; or I should speak more angrily than I do, about
a very intolerable sort of persecution to which you seem inclined to
subject me. You followed me ou