There is not a morsel of an old letter or of any other writing in either.

The young surgeon examines the dress on the law-writer.

A knife and some odd halfpence are all he finds.

Mr.Snagsby's suggestion is the practical suggestion after all, and the beadle must be called in.
So the little crazy lodger goes for the beadle, and the rest come out of the room.

"Don't leave the cat there!" says the surgeon; "that won't do!" Mr.Krook therefore drives her out before him, and she goes furtively downstairs, winding her lithe tail and licking her lips.
"Good night!" says Mr.Tulkinghorn, and goes home to Allegory and meditation.
By this time the news has got into the court.