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Multenius was found dead in his back-parlour yesterday afternoon, about five-thirty, by this young man, Mr. Lauriston, who happened to look in there, and I myself was on the spot a few minutes later. Your book for it's certainly the same was lying on the table in the parlour. Now, this other young man, Mr. Rubinstein, is a relation of Mr. Multenius's from enquiries he's made, Mr.
In this amusement they all took part by turns, except three or four fortunate individuals, who, having discovered a grating in the gate, which commanded a view of nothing, stared through it with the indefatigable perseverance with which people will flatten their noses against the front windows of a chemist's shop, when a drunken man, who has been run over by a dog-cart in the street, is undergoing a surgical inspection in the back-parlour.
All these things spoke of peace; but there are seasons when the pleasantest external influences have a depressing effect on the mind, by painfully recalling past happiness. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill.
About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small back-parlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured, "Heaven be praised! she still slumbers slumbers peacefully. The opiate has done its duty.
To my great delight the paper was in its place; with a beating heart I entered, there was nobody in the shop; as I stood at the counter, however, deliberating whether or not I should call out, the door of what seemed to be a back-parlour opened, and out came a well-dressed lady-like female, of about thirty, with a good-looking and intelligent countenance. ‘What is your business, young man?’ said she to me, after I had made her a polite bow. ‘I wish to speak to the gentleman of the house,’ said I. ‘My husband is not within at present,’ she replied; ‘what is your business?’ ‘I have merely brought something to show him,’ said I, ‘but I will call again.’ ‘If you are the young gentleman who has been here before,’ said the lady, ‘with poems and ballads, as, indeed, I know you are,’ she added, smiling, ‘for I have seen you through the glass door, I am afraid it will be useless; that is,’ she added with another smile, ‘if you bring us nothing else.’ ‘I have not brought you poems and ballads, now,’ said I, ‘but something widely different; I saw your advertisement for a tale or a novel, and have written something which I think will suit; and here it is,’ I added, showing the roll of paper which I held in my hand. ‘Well,’ said the bookseller’s wife, ‘you may leave it, though I cannot promise you much chance of its being accepted.
The next morning the valet informed Major Pendennis that he had seen Mr. Abrams; what was the amount of the bill that gentleman was desirous to negotiate; and that the Baronet would be sure to be in the back-parlour of the Wheel of Fortune Tavern that day at one o'clock.
Great iron bars covered it in from one end to another; and here it was that Mr. Aminadab's gaol-birds took the air. They had seen me reading out of the prayer-book at the back-parlour window, and all burst into a yell of laughter when I came to walk in the cage. "When do you mean, sir?" says I to the fellow a rough man, a horse-dealer.
He unlocked his strong-box, took out and pocketed a bag of money, and reached his hat off its peg. "I suppose 'twouldn't do to offer you my arm?" says he. "Folks would talk, Mr. Oke thanking you all the same." So out they went, and down the street side by side, and knocked at the Mayor's door. The Mayor was taking a nap in his back-parlour with a handkerchief over his face.
There were also an elderly lady from the back-parlour, and one more young lady, who, next to the collector, perhaps was the great lion of the party, being the daughter of a theatrical fireman, who 'went on' in the pantomime, and had the greatest turn for the stage that was ever known, being able to sing and recite in a manner that brought the tears into Mrs Kenwigs's eyes.
Vandover noticed as he came in that the house smelt of upholstery, cooking, and turpentine. He did not take off his overcoat, but went with her into the parlour. The parlour was a little room with tinted plaster walls shut off from the "back-parlour" by sliding doors. A ply carpet covered the floor, a cheap piano stood across one corner of the room, and a greenish sofa across another.
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