Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted than ever, as he drew nearer.

“I could take my oath to that ’ere black hair and mulberry suit,” said Mr. Weller; “only I never see such a face as that afore.”

As Mr. Weller said this, the man’s features assumed an unearthly twinge, perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, however, and the scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him to detect, under all these appalling twists of feature, something too like the small eyes of Mr. Job Trotter to be easily mistaken.

“Hallo, you Sir!” shouted Sam fiercely.

The stranger stopped.

“Hallo!” repeated Sam, still more gruffly.