The Unlimited here put her head in at the door—after having rapped, and been authorised to present herself—announcing that a gentleman wished for a word with another gentleman named Crisparkle, if any such gentleman were there. If no such gentleman were there, he begged pardon for being mistaken.
“Such a gentleman is here,” said Mr. Crisparkle, “but is engaged just now.”
“Is it a dark gentleman?” interposed Rosa, retreating on her guardian.
“No, Miss, more of a brown gentleman.”
“You are sure not with black hair?” asked Rosa, taking courage.
“Quite sure of that, Miss. Brown hair and blue eyes.”
“Perhaps,” hinted Mr. Grewgious, with habitual caution, “it might be well to see him, reverend sir, if you don’t object. When one is in a difficulty, or at a loss, one never knows in what direction a way out may chance to open. It is a business principle of mine, in such a case, not to close up any direction, but to keep an eye on every direction that may present itself. I could relate an anecdote in point, but that it would be premature.”
“If Miss Rosa will allow me then? Let the gentleman come in,” said Mr. Crisparkle.
The gentleman came in; apologised, with a frank but modest grace, for not finding Mr. Crisparkle alone; turned to Mr. Crisparkle, and smilingly asked the unexpected question: “Who am I?”
“You are the gentleman I saw smoking under the trees in Staple Inn a few minutes ago.”
“True. There I saw you. Who else am I?”