"Mr. Werricker, sir," said he, touching his low-crowned, wide-brimmed hat with a thick forefinger, "it ain't no manner o' use you a-ringin' o' that theer bell, because there ain't nobody to answer same, your young man Clegg 'aving took a little 'oliday, d'ye see, sir." "A holiday, Mr. Shrig! Pray how do you know?" "By obserwation, sir. I've a powerful gift that way, sir--from a infant." "This is very extraordinary behaviour in Clegg!" "But then, sir, your young man is a rayther extraordinary young man. 'Owsoever he's gone, sir, and I appre'end as he ain't a-comin' back--judgin' by vat 'e says in 'is letter." "What letter?" "The letter as 'e's left for you a-layin' on your desk this werry minute along o' my stick as I 'appened to forget--but you'll be vantin' to gain hadmittance, I expect, sir." "I do." "Vy then, 't is rayther fortunate as I did forget my stick or I shouldn't ha' come back for it in time to be o' service to you, Mr. Werricker. By your leave, sir." Saying which, Mr. Shrig took a small, neat implement from one of his many capacious pockets, inserted it into the keyhole, gave it a twist, and the door swung open. "Ah--a skeleton key, Mr. Shrig?" "That werry i-dentical, sir." "Is this how you gained admittance to my chambers?" "Ex-actly, sir." "And, being there, read my private letters?" "Only the vun, sir--dooty is dooty--only the vun. And I've a varrant o' search--" Entering my small library, I espied Mr. Shrig's knobbed staff lying upon my desk and beside it a letter laid carefully apart from a pile of unopened missives. "Is this the letter?" "The werry same, sir." "But if you have read it, how comes the seal unbroken?" "By means of a warm knife-blade, sir." Wondering, I opened the letter and read as follows: SIR: I regret that I am forced by circumstances to quit your service at a moment's notice, but trust you will find all in order as regards tradesmen's accounts, your clothes, linen, napery, etc. The key of the silver you will find under the hearthrug. Hoping you will find one as zealous as the unfortunate writer, I remain, sir, Yours respectfully, THOMAS CLEGG. "Very strange!" said I. "Ah!" sighed Mr. Shrig. "But then life generally is, Mr. Werricker, sir, if you'll take the trouble to ob-serve; so strange that I ain't never surprised at nothing--nowhere and nohow, sir. For instance, if you a-peepin' from the garret winder o' the 'ouse opposite--yonder across the street--'ad 'appened to ob-serve a young fe-male on her knees--here beside your werry own desk and veepin' fit to break 'er 'eart, pore soul--you'd ha' been surprised, I think--but I wasn't, no, not nohow--" "Do you mean you actually saw a woman here--here in my chambers?" "Aye, I did, sir!" "Who--who was she?" "A wictim o' wiciousness, sir." "What in the world do you mean? Who was she?" "Well, d'ye 'appen to know a young woman name of Nancy Price, sir?" "No!" "And yet you've 'ad same in your arms, Mr. Werricker, sir."