They were loitering about, with their hands behind them, and now and then with an anxious countenance whispered something in the ear of some of the gentlemen with papers, as they hurried by.

Mr.Pickwick remembered to have very often observed them lounging under the archway when he had been walking past; and his curiosity was quite excited to know to what branch of the profession these dingy-looking loungers could possibly belong.
He was about to propound the question to Namby, who kept close beside him, sucking a large gold ring on his little finger, when Perker bustled up, and observing that there was no time to lose, led the way into the inn.

As Mr.Pickwick followed, the lame man stepped up to him, and civilly touching his hat, held out a written card, which Mr.Pickwick, not wishing to hurt the man's feelings by refusing, courteously accepted and deposited in his waistcoat pocket.
'Now,' said Perker, turning round before he entered one of the offices, to see that his companions were close behind him.

'In here, my dear sir.
Hallo, what do you want ?' This last question was addressed to the lame man, who, unobserved by Mr.
Pickwick, made one of the party.

In reply to it, the lame man touched his hat again, with all imaginable politeness, and motioned towards Mr.
Pickwick.
'No, no,' said Perker, with a smile.