in a dreadful frock-coat and disgraceful trousers, wearing on his long
gray locks a desperado of a top hat, and carrying, in a bloated and
almost purple hand, a large empty jug.

"Please!" said Rosamund.

The old gentleman shuffled on.

"Could you tell me--_please_--can you tell me where we are?"

She had grasped his left coat-sleeve. He turned and, bending, she peered
into the face of a drunkard.

"Close to the 'Daniel Lambert,'" said an almost refined old voice.

And a pair of pathetic gray eyes peered up at her above a nose that was
like a conflagration.

"Where's that? What is it?"

"Don't you know the 'Daniel Lambert'?"

The voice sounded very surprised and almost suspicious.

"No."

"It's well known, very well known. I'm just popping round there to get a
little something--eh!"

The voice died away.