When we reached St. Martin's Lane, Gus got a cigar, to give himself as it
were a _distingue_ air, and pulled at it all the way up the Lane, and
through the alleys into Coventry Street, where Mr. Polonius's shop is, as
everybody knows.

The door was open, and a number of carriages full of ladies were drawing
up and setting down. Gus kept his hands in his pockets--trousers were
worn very full then, with large tucks, and pigeon-holes for your boots,
or Bluchers, to come through (the fashionables wore boots, but we chaps
in the City, on 80_l_. a year, contented ourselves with Bluchers); and as
Gus stretched out his pantaloons as wide as he could from his hips, and
kept blowing away at his cheroot, and clamping with the iron heels of his
boots, and had very large whiskers for so young a man, he really looked
quite the genteel thing, and was taken by everybody to be a person of
consideration.

He would not come into the shop though, but stood staring at the gold
pots and kettles in the window outside. I went in; and after a little
hemming and hawing--for I had never been at such a fashionable place
before--asked one of the gentlemen to let me speak to Mr. Polonius.

"What can I do for you, sir?" says Mr. Polonius, who was standing close
by, as it happened, serving three ladies,--a very old one and two young
ones, who were examining pearl necklaces very attentively.

"Sir," said I, producing my jewel out of my coat-pocket, "this jewel has,
I believe, been in your house before: it belonged to my aunt, Mrs.
Hoggarty, of Castle Hoggarty." The old lady standing near looked round
as I spoke.