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"Now, there you are hasty, sir," said Barsad, with a smile that

gave his aquiline nose an extra inclination to one side; "there

you really give me an advantage over you. Cly (who I will

unreservedly admit, at this distance of time, was a partner of

mine) has been dead several years. I attended him in his last

illness. He was buried in London, at the church of Saint

Pancras-in-the-Fields. His unpopularity with the blackguard

multitude at the moment prevented my following his remains, but I

helped to lay him in his coffin."

Here, Mr. Lorry became aware, from where he sat, of a most

remarkable goblin shadow on the wall. Tracing it to its source,

he discovered it to be caused by a sudden extraordinary rising

and stiffening of all the risen and stiff hair on Mr. Cruncher's

head.