The old man had a fine, thoughtful face, and only a slight
bulbousness of the nose gave sign of his failing. Properly dressed, he
would have looked like a professor, or doctor, or something of that
kind. As it was, his air of good breeding and culture quite accounted
for the name the people gave him. I should have found it impossible to
imagine him in a police-cell had I not been a midnight wanderer for
long.
"How did you come to learn shorthand?"
"My father was a solicitor in large practice, and I found I could assist
him with the confidential correspondence, so I took lessons in White's
system for a year. My father said I was his right hand. Ah! He gave me
ten pounds and two days' holiday at Brighton when I took down his first
letter."
"Have you been a solicitor?"
"No. I had an idea of putting my name down at one of the Inns, but I
went wrong before anything came of the affair."
"You say you have had good employment. But how did you contrive to
separate from your father?"
"Oh! I wore out his patience.
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