With this, Number Twenty Eight retired, after a glance between him and Uriah; as if they were not altogether unknown to each other, through some medium of communication; and a murmur went round the group, as his door shut upon him, that he was a most respectable man, and a beautiful case.

“Now, Twenty Seven,” said Mr. Creakle, entering on a clear stage with his man, “is there anything that anyone can do for you? If so, mention it.”

“I would ’umbly ask, sir,” returned Uriah, with a jerk of his malevolent head, “for leave to write again to mother.”

“It shall certainly be granted,” said Mr. Creakle.

“Thank you, sir! I am anxious about mother. I am afraid she ain’t safe.”