Pickwick that he was falling asleep. So he roused
himself, and began to undress, when he recollected he had left his
watch on the table downstairs.
Now this watch was a special favourite with Mr. Pickwick,
having been carried about, beneath the shadow of his waistcoat,
for a greater number of years than we feel called upon to state at
present. The possibility of going to sleep, unless it were ticking
gently beneath his pillow, or in the watch-pocket over his head,
had never entered Mr. Pickwick's brain. So as it was pretty late
now, and he was unwilling to ring his bell at that hour of the
night, he slipped on his coat, of which he had just divested
himself, and taking the japanned candlestick in his hand, walked
quietly downstairs.
The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the more stairs
there seemed to be to descend, and again and again, when Mr.
Pickwick got into some narrow passage, and began to congratulate
himself on having gained the ground-floor, did another flight
of stairs appear before his astonished eyes. At last he reached a
stone hall, which he remembered to have seen when he entered
the house. Passage after passage did he explore; room after room
did he peep into; at length, as he was on the point of giving up the
search in despair, he opened the door of the identical room in
which he had spent the evening, and beheld his missing property
on the table.
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