This, Grindle the clerk, whom he met on the stairs, informed him, with an evident relish, and with some hidden, hinted meaning in the corners of his shifty little eyes.

It was lost on Mahony, who was not the man to accept hints from a stranger.
The hour was on lunch-time; Grindle proposed that they should go together to a legal chop-house, which offered prime value for your money, and where, over the meal, he would give Mahony the latest news of his suit.

At a loss how to get through the day, the latter followed him--he was resolved, too, to practise economy from now on.

But when he sat down to a dirty cloth and fly-spotted cruet he regretted his compliance.

Besides, the news Grindle was able to give him amounted to nothing; the case had not budged since last he heard of it.