He had left the rooms, as
he said, at three o'clock, pondering how he might raise money for the
book on which his heart was set. His feet had taken him, half
unconsciously, to
a dismal court,
Place of Israelite resort,
where dwelt and dealt one Isaacs, from whom he had, at various times,
borrowed money on usury. The name of Isaacs was over a bell, one of many
at the door, and, when the bell was rung, the street door "opened of his
own accord," like that of the little tobacco-and-talk club which used to
exist in an alley off Pall Mall. Allen rang the bell, the outer door
opened, and, as he was standing at the door of Isaacs' chambers, before
he had knocked, _that_ portal also opened, and the office-boy, a young
Jew, slunk cautiously out. On seeing Allen, he had seemed at once
surprised and alarmed. Allen asked if his master was in; the lad
answered "No" in a hesitating way; but on second thoughts, averred that
Isaacs "would be back immediately," and requested Allen to go in and
wait. He did so, but Isaacs never came, and Allen fell asleep. He had a
very distinct and singular dream, he said, of being in Messrs. Blocksy's
rooms, of handling the Longepierre, and of seeing Wentworth there, and
Lord Tarras. When he wakened he was very cold, and, of course, it was
pitch dark.
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