The clock struck ten, and clerks poured in faster than ever,
each one in a greater perspiration than his predecessor. The
noise of unlocking and opening doors echoed and re-echoed on
every side; heads appeared as if by magic in every window; the
porters took up their stations for the day; the slipshod laundresses
hurried off; the postman ran from house to house; and
the whole legal hive was in a bustle.
'You're early, Mr. Pickwick,' said a voice behind him.
'Ah, Mr. Lowten,' replied that gentleman, looking round, and
recognising his old acquaintance.
'Precious warm walking, isn't it?' said Lowten, drawing a
Bramah key from his pocket, with a small plug therein, to keep
the dust out.
'You appear to feel it so,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling at
the clerk, who was literally red-hot.
'I've come along, rather, I can tell you,' replied Lowten. 'It
went the half hour as I came through the Polygon. I'm here
before him, though, so I don't mind.'
Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lowten extracted
the plug from the door-key; having opened the door, replugged
and repocketed his Bramah, and picked up the letters which the
postman had dropped through the box, he ushered Mr.
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