“And this,” said Mr. Pickwick, looking up. “Is the Angel! We alight here, Sam. But some caution is necessary. Order a private room, and do not mention my name. You understand.”

“Right as a trivet, sir,” replied Mr. Weller, with a wink of intelligence; and having dragged Mr. Pickwick’s portmanteau from the hind boot, into which it had been hastily thrown when they joined the coach at Eatanswill, Mr. Weller disappeared on his errand. A private room was speedily engaged; and into it Mr. Pickwick was ushered without delay.

“Now, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, “the first thing to be done is to⁠—”