a fat white face with a
rich glaze all over it and a fringe of ragged brown whisker meeting
under his chin, was sitting behind the counter posting up his ledger.

Paul looked round the shop in search of something to purchase, and at
last said, more nervously than he expected to do, "I want a pencil-case,
one which screws up and down." He thought a pencil-case would be an
innocent, unsuspicious thing to ask for. The man set rows of cards
containing pencil-cases of every imaginable shape on the counter before
him, and when Mr. Bultitude had chosen and paid for one, the stationer
asked if there would be anything else, and if he might send it for him.
"You're one of Dr. Grimstone's young gentlemen up at Crichton House,
aren't you, sir?" he added.

A guilty dread of discovery made Paul anxious to deny this at once.
"No," he said; "oh no; no connection with the place. Ah, could you allow
me to look at a time-table?"

"Certainly, sir; expectin' some one to-night or to-morrow p'raps. Let me
see," he said, consulting a table which hung behind him. "There's a
train from Pancras comes in in half an hour from now, 6.5 that is;
there's another doo at 8.15, and one at 9.30. Then from Liverpool Street
they run----"

"Thank you," said Mr. Bultitude, "but--but I want the up-trains."

"Ah," said the man, with a rather peculiar intonation, "I thought maybe
your par or mar was comin' down. Ain't Dr. Grimstone got the times the
trains go?"

"Yes," said Paul desperately, without very well knowing what he said,
"yes, he has, but ah, not for this month; he--he sent me to inquire."

"Did he though?" said the stationer. "I thought you wasn't one of his
young gentlemen?"

Mr. Bultitude saw what a fearful trap he had fallen into and stood
speechless.

"Go along with you!" said the little stationer at last, with a not
unkindly grin. "Lor bless you, I knew your face the minnit you come in.
To go and tell me a brazen story like that! You're a young pickle, you
are!"

Mr. Bultitude began to shuffle feebly towards the door. "Pickle, eh?" he
protested in great discomposure. "No, no. Heaven knows I'm no pickle.
It's of no consequence about those trains. Don't trouble. Good evening
to you."

"Stop," said the man, "don't be in such a nurry now. You tell me what
you want to know straightforward, and I don't mean to say as I won't
help you so far as I can. Don't be afraid of my telling no tales. I've
bin a schoolboy myself in my time, bless y