By half-past eight in the morning, he appeared before the door of the offices of Mr. Grahame’s solicitors. He knocked, and the laundress who was setting the clerk’s office “to rights,” admitted him. He pretended to be surprised that no clerk was there, but on his stating that he had been sent, upon business of the utmost importance, by a client of the firm, and that he must not go back without an answer, the woman accommodated him with a seat. He sat motionless, but watched her movements closely. He observed her enter an inner apartment the consulting room of the principal. She remained in there some little time, and when she returned, he engaged her in conversation in a chatty, affable, familiar way, silently observing, at the same time, that she placed the key of the inner apartment in a particular spot. Presently she was summoned to make the breakfast of one of _her_ clients, on another floor, and, telling Chewkle that the clerk would shortly arrive, she left him alone. He watched her, through the keyhole, ascend the stairs, then he heard a door above bang, and her foot reverberating overhead. With the greatest possible quickness he made for the spot where the key was placed, and, securing it, unlocked the door of the inner apartment, and glided into the room. He gazed sharply around at the boxes on the shelves, and upon one japanned, large and square, he saw printed in white letters, the name of Grahame, and beneath it the date of the year. He made for it, and opened it noiselessly. It was three parts full of papers. Upon the very top was the deed for which he had come thither. He recognised the endorsement, but he opened it, and at the bottom saw Wilton’s signature as Grahame had written it. The sight of the name was sufficient. He carefully closed the box, retreated from the room, replaced the key where he had taken it from, put the deed beneath his waistcoat, and then buttoned his coat over that up to his chin. He reseated himself in pretty much the same position as that he had taken when the laundress left him, and upon his face he wore a blank expression, leaving it a debateable point whether he was more stupid than innocent. The clock of a neighbouring church struck nine! About ten minutes afterwards the door opened, and a young man about two and twenty entered. He started on seeing Chewkle, and looked as disconcerted as a man who comes suddenly upon a creditor whom he cannot pay, the said creditor being inexorable and rapacious, and money his only pacificator. If such were the clerk’s feelings, his apprehensions were relieved by Chewkle stating the object of his visit. “Governor won’t be here till ten,” replied the clerk; “I can’t open his letters: and if I did I don’t dare give up any papers. You must wait till he comes.” He gave Chewkle back the letter and told him to take his seat again, which Chewkle did.