With penitential air Charley listened and promised.

Mr.Oldeschole promised also that bygones should be bygones.

'I wonder whether the old cock would lend me a five-pound note! I dare say he would,' said Charley to himself, as he left the office.

He abstained, however, from asking for it.
Returning to his room, he took his hat and went downstairs.

As he was sauntering forth through the archway into the Strand, a man with a decent coat but a very bad hat came up to him.
'I'm afraid I must trouble you to go with me, Mr.Tudor,' said the man.
'All right,' said Charley; 'Outerman, I suppose; isn't it ?' 'All right,' said the bailiff.
And away the two walked together to a sponging-house in Cursitor Street.
Charley had been arrested at the suit of Mr.Outerman, the tailor.