His face darkened. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment.
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