“The gentleman handed me his card,” replied Mr. Pickwick, producing it from his waistcoat pocket. “I accepted it, as the gentleman seemed to wish it⁠—in fact I had some curiosity to look at it when I should be at leisure. I⁠—”

The little attorney burst into a loud laugh, and returning the card to the lame man, informing him it was all a mistake, whispered to Mr. Pickwick as the man turned away in dudgeon, that he was only a bail.

“A what!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

“A bail,” replied Perker.

“A bail!”