There's plenty of room in Russell Square for a walk, without the
promenaders being seen by those without, either in the houses or on the
pavement.
Russell Square had grown very attractive to Frank Pratt of late, and he
used to smoke cigars there at all sorts of hours. He had been seen by
the milk there at 6:15, railway time; Z 17 had glanced suspiciously at
him at one a.m.; while the crossing-sweeper said she "knowed that there
little stumpy gent by heart."
It was one afternoon about three, though, that Pratt was sauntering
along one side of the square, when he saw Vanleigh and Sir Felix go
slowly up to Sir Hampton's house; and a pang shot through the little
fellow, as envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness took
possession of his heart.
"Lucky beggars!" he groaned.
He felt better, though, the next minute, for the servant who answered
the door had evidently said "Not at home!" card-cases had been
withdrawn, and then the visitors had languidly descended the steps and
continued their way.
"Lucky beggars!" said Pratt again. "Heigho! what a donkey I am to
wander about here. Poor Dick, though, it's to do him a good turn."
He crossed the road to the railings of the garden, and as he walked
there he cast a very languishing look up at the great, grim house,
almost fancying he heard "Er-rum!" proceed from an open window; and if
he had not said his presence there was on account of his friend, any
looker-on would have vowed it was in his own interests.
He walked slowly on, thinking about Cornwall, and another visit he had
projected there; of Fin Rea; about Richard and his disappointments;
about his pretty neighbour; and lastly of a case he had in hand, when a
little toy dog rushed amongst the shrubs inside the railings, and began
snapping and barking at him with all the virulence of an old
acquaintance.
"Get out, you little wretch!" thought Pratt, and then he fancied he
recognised the dog.
"Why, it's Pepine!" he mentally exclaimed.