Obeying these instructions, the neophyte traversed the hurrying throng of Fleet Street, and passed under the ancient arch that forms the portal of Inner Temple Lane, not without a momentary recollection of Dante's famous "All hope abandon, you who enter here." He felt immediately that he was in the toils; law stationers on each hand showed their red tape, and quills, and parchment, polite slips of the latter presenting King George's greeting to his sheriff of what county you will; dapper clerks were bustling along with bundles of paper; every door-post was crowded with a host of names, among which Randolph might recognize some he had been used to read in the newspaper. He passed under the porch of the church, recalling the days when the sword was more powerful than the pen; read the inscription recording the fire and rebuilding of the cloister; and looked with respect on the powdered wigs in the hairdresser's window. He felt benumbed by the high, dismal, worm-eaten buildings, but was relieved when the sound of falling water attracted his eye to the fountain, flinging its column of silver into the air amidst elms and sycamores. Hastening towards this green spot, he saw the hall of which Mr. Winter had spoken, and proceeded to the stairs leading to the quiet little garden, one of the pleasantest retreats in all London. Randolph gazed some time on this oasis in the legal desert, and then turned to fulfil the rest of his mission. And now he marked the many singular dials, fixed aloft against the buildings, so that one or other was always available, reminding the denizens of the value of the minutes by their dry mottos, "Time and tide tarry for no man," "Pereunt et imputantur," they perish and are laid to charge. Retracing his steps, he surveyed with pleasure the more spacious garden which had decided his choice of a society for his studentship. The office which he sought was close at hand. On making his application he was provided with a printed form, and instructed to fill up the blanks and return it. With this he obtained admission to the garden, and sat down in one of the alcoves by the river-side to examine the document. Perplexity fell upon him as he read. Two barristers were to certify that they knew him, and believed him to be a gentleman. The expression awoke all the pride of a Trevethlan. "Was my father, then, right?" he thought, gazing moodily on the water. "Is this a course meet for one of our name? To skulk among men in disguise? To beg certificates of honour? Believed to be a gentleman! Already my dream is fading away. Oh! my own sister, would we were back at Trevethlan! Yet shall I vex you too with my doubts?... Know me? Who knows me? Who in London knows Randolph Morton?"