“Good evening, Mr. Wegg. The yard gate-lock should be looked to, if you please; it don’t catch.”

“Is it Mr. Rokesmith?” falters Wegg.

“It is Mr. Rokesmith. Don’t let me disturb you. I am not coming in. I have only a message for you, which I undertook to deliver on my way home to my lodgings. I was in two minds about coming beyond the gate without ringing: not knowing but you might have a dog about.”

“I wish I had,” mutters Wegg, with his back turned as he rose from his chair. “ St. ! Hush! The talking-over stranger, Mr. Venus.”