'Every one of 'em,' replied Dennis. 'Every man Jack!'
There was something so very ghastly in this circumstance, and it
appeared to account, in such a very strange and dismal manner, for his
faded dress--which, in this new aspect, seemed discoloured by the earth
from graves--that Mr Tappertit abruptly found he was going another way,
and, stopping short, bade him good night with the utmost heartiness. As
they happened to be near the Old Bailey, and Mr Dennis knew there were
turnkeys in the lodge with whom he could pass the night, and discuss
professional subjects of common interest among them before a rousing
fire, and over a social glass, he separated from his companions without
any great regret, and warmly shaking hands with Hugh, and making an
early appointment for their meeting at The Boot, left them to pursue
their road.
'That's a strange sort of man,' said Mr Tappertit, watching the
hackney-coachman's hat as it went bobbing down the street. 'I don't know
what to make of him. Why can't he have his smalls made to order, or wear
live clothes at any rate?'
'He's a lucky man, captain,' cried Hugh. 'I should like to have such
friends as his.'
'I hope he don't get 'em to make their wills, and then knock 'em on the
head,' said Mr Tappertit, musing.
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