at No.--Wall-street.

Full of forebodings, I replied that I was.

"Then sir," said the stranger, who proved a lawyer, "you are responsible
for the man you left there. He refuses to do any copying; he refuses to
do any thing; he says he prefers not to; and he refuses to quit the
premises."

"I am very sorry, sir," said I, with assumed tranquility, but an inward
tremor, "but, really, the man you allude to is nothing to me--he is no
relation or apprentice of mine, that you should hold me responsible for
him."

"In mercy's name, who is he?"

"I certainly cannot inform you. I know nothing about him. Formerly I
employed him as a copyist; but he has done nothing for me now for some
time past."

"I shall settle him then,--good morning, sir."

Several days passed, and I heard nothing more; and though I often felt a
charitable prompting to call at the place and see poor Bartleby, yet a
certain squeamishness of I know not what withheld me.

All is over with him, by this time, thought I at last, when through
another week no further intelligence reached me. But coming to my room
the day after, I found several persons waiting at my door in a high
state of nervous excitement.