第67章

’HaveyouanyideawhereMissWadeistobefound？’

’Totellyouthetruth，’returnedMrMeagles，’it’sbecauseIhaveanaddledjumbleofanotiononthatsubjectthatyoufoundmewaitinghere。Thereisoneofthoseoddimpressionsinmyhouse，whichdomysteriouslygetintohousessometimes，whichnobodyseemstohavepickedupinadistinctformfromanybody，andyetwhicheverybodyseemstohavegotholdoflooselyfromsomebodyandletgoagain，thatshelives，orwasliving，thereabouts。’MrMeagleshandedhimaslipofpaper，onwhichwaswrittenthenameofoneofthedullby-streetsintheGrosvenorregion，nearParkLane。

’Hereisnonumber，’saidArthurlookingoverit。

’Nonumber，mydearClennam？’returnedhisfriend。’Noanything!

Theverynameofthestreetmayhavebeenfloatingintheair；for，asItellyou，noneofmypeoplecansaywheretheygotitfrom。

However，it’sworthaninquiry；andasIwouldrathermakeitincompanythanalone，andasyoutoowereafellow-travellerofthatimmovablewoman’s，Ithoughtperhaps——’Clennamfinishedthesentenceforhimbytakinguphishatagain，andsayinghewasready。

Itwasnowsummer-time；agrey，hot，dustyevening。TheyrodetothetopofOxfordStreet，andtherealighting，divedinamongthegreatstreetsofmelancholystateliness，andthelittlestreetsthattrytobeasstatelyandsucceedinbeingmoremelancholy，ofwhichthereisalabyrinthnearParkLane。Wildernessesofcornerhouses，withbarbarousoldporticoesandappurtenances；horrorsthatcameintoexistenceundersomewrong-headedpersoninsomewrong-headedtime，stilldemandingtheblindadmirationofallensuinggenerationsanddeterminedtodosountiltheytumbleddown；frowneduponthetwilight。Parasitelittletenements，withthecrampintheirwholeframe，fromthedwarfhall-dooronthegiantmodelofHisGrace’sintheSquaretothesqueezedwindowoftheboudoircommandingthedunghillsintheMews，madetheeveningdoleful。Ricketydwellingsofundoubtedfashion，butofacapacitytoholdnothingcomfortablyexceptadismalsmell，lookedlikethelastresultofthegreatmansions’breedingin-and-in；and，wheretheirlittlesupplementarybowsandbalconiesweresupportedonthinironcolumns，seemedtobescrofulouslyrestinguponcrutches。

HereandthereaHatchment，withthewholescienceofHeraldryinit，loomeddownuponthestreet，likeanArchbishopdiscoursingonVanity。Theshops，fewinnumber，madenoshow；forpopularopinionwasasnothingtothem。Thepastrycookknewwhowasonhisbooks，andinthatknowledgecouldbecalm，withafewglasscylindersofdowagerpeppermint-dropsinhiswindow，andhalf-a-

dozenancientspecimensofcurrant-jelly。Afeworangesformedthegreengrocer’swholeconcessiontothevulgarmind。Asinglebasketmadeofmoss，oncecontainingplovers’eggs，heldallthatthepoultererhadtosaytotherabble。Everybodyinthosestreetsseemed(whichisalwaysthecaseatthathourandseason)tobegoneouttodinner，andnobodyseemedtobegivingthedinnerstheyhadgoneto。Onthedoorstepstherewereloungingfootmenwithbrightparti-colouredplumageandwhitepolls，likeanextinctraceofmonstrousbirds；andbutlers，solitarymenofreclusedemeanour，eachofwhomappeareddistrustfulofallotherbutlers。TherollofcarriagesintheParkwasdonefortheday；thestreetlampswerelighting；andwickedlittlegroomsinthetightestfittinggarments，withtwistsintheirlegsansweringtothetwistsintheirminds，hungaboutinpairs，chewingstrawsandexchangingfraudulentsecrets。Thespotteddogswhowentoutwiththecarriages，andwhoweresoassociatedwithsplendidequipagesthatitlookedlikeacondescensioninthoseanimalstocomeoutwithoutthem，accompaniedhelperstoandfroonmessages。Hereandtherewasaretiringpublic-housewhichdidnotrequiretobesupportedontheshouldersofthepeople，andwheregentlemenoutofliverywerenotmuchwanted。

Thislastdiscoverywasmadebythetwofriendsinpursuingtheirinquiries。Nothingwasthere，oranywhere，knownofsuchapersonasMissWade，inconnectionwiththestreettheysought。Itwasoneofthepara