'That's Buggins the bailiff,' exclaimed he to himself, as the recollection
of an unanswered lawyer's letter flashed across his mind; and he was just
darting off to the bell to warn Spigot not to admit any one, when the lad's
cockade, standing in relief against the sky-line, caused him to pause and
gaze again at the unwonted apparition.
'Who the deuce can it be?' asked he of himself, looking at his watch, and
seeing it was a quarter-past four. 'It surely can't be my lord, or that
Jack Spraggon coming after all?' added he, drawing out a telescope and
opening a lancet-window.
'Spraggon, as I live!' exclaimed he, as he caught Jack's harsh, spectacled
features, and saw him titivating his hair and arranging his collar and
stock as he approached.
'Well, that beats everything!' exclaimed Jawleyford, burning with rage as
he fastened the window again.
He stood for a few seconds transfixed to the spot, not knowing what on
earth to do. At last resolution came to his aid, and, rushing upstairs to
his dressing-room, he quickly divested himself of his coat and waistcoat,
and slipped on a dressing-gown and night-cap.
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