"Thank you, sir."

I rang the chambermaid's bell; and Mrs. Pratchett marched in, according
to custom, demurely carrying a lighted flat candle before her, as if she
was one of a long public procession, all the other members of which was
invisible.

In the meanwhile the gentleman had gone up to the mantelpiece, right in
front of the fire, and had laid his forehead against the mantelpiece
(which it is a low one, and brought him into the attitude of leap-frog),
and had heaved a tremenjous sigh. His hair was long and lightish; and
when he laid his forehead against the mantelpiece, his hair all fell in a
dusty fluff together over his eyes; and when he now turned round and
lifted up his head again, it all fell in a dusty fluff together over his
ears. This give him a wild appearance, similar to a blasted heath.

"O! The chambermaid. Ah!" He was turning something in his mind. "To
be sure. Yes. I won't go up-stairs now, if you will take my bag. It
will be enough for the present to know my number.--Can you give me 24 B?"

(O Conscience, what a Adder art thou!)

Mrs. Pratchett allotted him the room, and took his bag to it. He then
went back before the fire, and fell a biting his nails.

"Waiter!" biting between the words, "give me," bite, "pen and paper; and
in five minutes," bite, "let me have, if you please," bite, "a", bite,
"Messenger."