Before the counter no
customer appeared; behind it there stood alone a squalid, bushy browed,
hump-backed man, as dirty as the dirtiest bit of iron about him,
sorting old nails. Mat, who had unintelligibly passed the doors of
respectable ironmongers, now, as unintelligibly, entered this doubtful
and dirty shop; and addressed himself to the unattractive stranger
behind the counter. The conference in which the two immediately engaged
was conducted in low tones, and evidently ended to the satisfaction of
both; for the squalid shopman began to whistle a tune as he resumed his
sorting of the nails, and Mat muttered to himself; "That's all right,"
as he came out on the pavement again.
His next proceeding--always supposing that it had reference to the
reception of Mr. Blyth--was still more mysterious. He went into one of
those grocer's shops which are dignified by the title of "Italian
Warehouses," and bought a small lump of the very best refined wax!
After making this extraordinary purchase, which he put into the pocket
of his trousers, he next entered the public-house opposite his
lodgings; and, in defiance of what Zack had told him about Valentine's
temperate habits, bought and brought away with him, not only a fresh
bottle of Brandy, but a bottle of old Jamaica Rum besides.
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