a shabby house not far from the entrance, he waited until they had made
their way in, and then making up to the servant, ventured to inquire if
he knew where Mr Gregsbury lived.

The servant was a very pale, shabby boy, who looked as if he had slept
underground from his infancy, as very likely he had. 'Mr Gregsbury?'
said he; 'Mr Gregsbury lodges here. It's all right. Come in!'

Nicholas thought he might as well get in while he could, so in he
walked; and he had no sooner done so, than the boy shut the door, and
made off.

This was odd enough: but what was more embarrassing was, that all along
the passage, and all along the narrow stairs, blocking up the window,
and making the dark entry darker still, was a confused crowd of
persons with great importance depicted in their looks; who were, to all
appearance, waiting in silent expectation of some coming event. From
time to time, one man would whisper his neighbour, or a little group
would whisper together, and then the whisperers would nod fiercely to
each other, or give their heads a relentless shake, as if they were bent
upon doing something very desperate, and were determined not to be put
off, whatever happened.

As a few minutes elapsed without anything occurring to explain this
phenomenon, and as he felt his own position a peculiarly uncomfortable
one, Nicholas was on the point of seeking some information from the man
next him, when a sudden move was visible on the stairs, and a voice was
heard to cry, 'Now, gentleman, have the goodness to walk up!'

So far from walking up, the gentlemen on the stairs began to walk down