sheets of parchment,
and a pale-faced man, of about thirty, whose beard had never yet
attained power to do more than sprout, was sitting at the table, and
poring over the parchments. Round the room, on shelves, there was a
variety of iron boxes, on which were written the names of Mr Slow's
clients,--of those clients whose property justified them in having
special boxes of their own. But these boxes were there, it must be
supposed, for temporary purposes,--purposes which might be described
as almost permanently temporary,--for those boxes which were allowed
to exist in absolute permanence of retirement, were kept in an iron
room downstairs, the trap-door into which had yawned upon Miss
Mackenzie as she was shown into the waiting-room. There was, however,
one such box open, on the middle of the floor, and sundry of the
parchments which had been taken from it were lying around it.

There were but two chairs in the room besides the one occupied by the
man at the table, and these were taken by John Ball and his cousin.
She sat herself down, armed with patience, indifferent to the delay
and indifferent to the dusty ugliness of everything around her, as
women are on such occasions. He, thinking much of his time, and
somewhat annoyed at being called upon to wait, sat with his chin
resting on his umbrella between his legs, and as he did so he allowed
his eyes to roam around among the names upon the boxes. There was
nothing on any one of those up on the shelves that attracted him.
There was the Marquis of B----, and Sir C. D----, and the Dowager
Countess of E----. Seeing this, he speculated mildly whether Mr Slow
put forward the boxes of his aristocratic customers to show how well
he was doing in the world. But presently his eye fell from the shelf
and settled upon the box on the floor. There, on that box, he saw the
name of Walter Mackenzie.

This did not astonish him, as he immediately said to himself that
these papers were being searched with reference to the business on
which his cousin was there that day; but suddenly it occurred to him
that Margaret had given him to understand that Mr Slow did not expect
her. He stepped over to her, therefore, one step over the papers, and
asked her the question, whispering it into her ear.

"No," said she, "I had no appointment. I don't think he expects me."

He returned to his seat, and again sitting down with his chin on
the top of his umbrella, surveyed the parchments that lay upon