r three lemons and a pound of loaf sugar.
So far his proceedings were no doubt intelligible enough; but they
gradually became more and more incomprehensible when he began to walk up
and down two or three streets, looking about him attentively, stopping
at every locksmith's and ironmonger's shop that he passed, waiting to
observe all the people who might happen to be inside them, and then
deliberately walking on again. In this way he approached, in course of
time, a very filthy little row of houses, with some very ill-looking
male and female inhabitants visible in detached positions, staring out
of windows or lingering about public-house doors.

Occupying the lower story of one of these houses was a small grimy shop,
which, judging by the visible stock-in-trade, dealt on a much larger
scale in iron and steel ware that was old and rusty, than in iron and
steel ware that was new and bright. Before the counter no customer
appeared; behind it there stood alone a squalid, bushy browed,
hump-backed man, as dirty as the dirtiest bit of iron about him, sorting
old nails. Mat, who had unintelligibly passed the doors of respectable
ironmongers, now, as unintelligibly, entered this doubtful and dirty
shop; and addressed himself to the unattractive stranger behind the
counter. The conference in which the two immediately engaged was
conducted in low tones, and evidently ended to the satisfaction of
both; for the squalid shopman began to whistle a tune as he resumed his
sorting of the nails, and Mat muttered to himself; "That's all right,"
as he came out on the pavement again.

His next proceeding--always supposing that it had reference to the
reception of Mr. Blyth--was still more mysterious. He went into one
of those grocer's shops which are dignified by the title of "Italian
Warehouses," and bought a small lump of the very best refined wax! After
making this extraordinary purchase, which he put into the pocket of his
trousers, he next entered the public-house opposite his lodgings;
and, in defiance of what Zack had told him about Valentine's temperate
habits, bought and brought away with him, not only a fresh bottle of
Brandy, but a bottle of old Jamaica Rum besides.

Young Thorpe had not returned from Mr. Blyth's when Mat entered the
lodgings with these purchases. He put the bottles, the sugar, and
the lemons in the cupboard--cast a satisfied look at the three clean
tumblers and spoons already standing on the shelf--relaxed so f