At this humorous notion, all the clerks laughed in concert.

“There was such a game with Fogg here, this mornin’,” said the man in the brown coat, “while Jack was upstairs sorting the papers, and you two were gone to the stamp-office. Fogg was down here, opening the letters when that chap as we issued the writ against at Camberwell, you know, came in⁠—what’s his name again?”

“Ramsey,” said the clerk who had spoken to Mr. Pickwick.