inquiries of Dummie Dunnaker fell harmless; "my poor sinful carcass!
what a way it be in!"

Artfully again did Dummie Dunnaker, nothing defeated, renew his attack;
but fortune does not always favour the wise, and it failed Dummie now,
for a twofold reason,--first, because it was not possible for the dame to
comprehend him; secondly, because even if it had been, she had nothing to
reveal. Some of Clifford's pecuniary gifts had been conveyed
anonymously, all without direction or date; and for the most part they
had been appropriated by the sage Martha, into whose hands they fell, to
her own private uses. Nor did the dame require Clifford's grateful
charity; for she was a woman tolerably well off in this world,
considering how near she was waxing to another. Longer, however, might
Dummie have tried his unavailing way, had not the door of the inn creaked
on its hinges, and the bulky form of a tall man in a smockfrock, but with
a remarkably fine head of hair, darkened the threshold. He honoured the
dame, who cast on him a lacklustre eye, with a sulky yet ambrosial nod,
seized a bottle of spirits and a tumbler, lighted a candle, drew a small
German pipe and a tobacco-box from his pouch, placed these several
luxuries on a small table, wheeled it to a far corner of the room, and
throwing himself into one chair, and his legs into another, he enjoyed
the result of his pains in a moody and supercilious silence. Long and
earnestly did the meek Dummie gaze on the face of the gentleman before
him. It had been some years since he had last beheld it; but it was one
which did not easily escape the memory; and although its proprietor was a
man who had risen in the world, and had gained the height of his
profession (a station far beyond the diurnal sphere of Dummie Dunnaker),
and the humble purloiner was therefore astonished to encounter him in
these lower regions, yet Dummie's recollection carried him back to a day
when they had gone shares together without respect of persons, and been