But there was no time for further prognostication; a second warder was at the door, beckoning impatiently, and Richard rose at once.  The dull faces of the rest were all raised toward him with a malign aspect; they feared that some good news was come for him, that they were about to lose a companion in misfortune.  Only one held out his hand, with a “Good luck to you, young gentleman; though I never see you again, I shall not forget you.”

“Silence there!” cried the officer in charge, as Richard passed out into the stone passage.  “You ought to know our ways better than that, Balfour.”

CHAPTER XXVII.

ATTORNEY AND CLIENT.

In a hall of stone stood a room of glass, and in that room the inmates of Cross Key Jail were permitted to have access to their legal advisers.  They were not lost sight of by the jealous guardians of the place, one of whom perambulated the hall throughout the interview; but though he could see all that passed, he could hear nothing.  Mr. Weasel of Plymouth was very well known at Cross Key as being a frequent visitor to that transparent apartment, and those prisoners whom he favored with his attentions were justly held in high estimation by the warders, as gentlemen who, though in difficulties, had at least some considerable command of ready money.  He was waiting now, with his hat on (which he always wore, to increase his very limited stature), in this chamber of audience; and so withered up he looked, and such a sharp, shrunk face he had, that Richard, seeing him in the glass case, might have thought him some dried specimen of humanity, not alive at all, had he not chanced to be in the act of taking snuff; and even that was ghostly too, since it produced the pantomimic action of sneezing without its accompanying sound.

“Mr. Richard Yorke, I believe?” said he, as soon as they were shut up within the walls of glass, “I am glad to make your acquaintance, Sir, though I wish, for your sake, that it happened in another place.  You’ll excuse my not offering you my hand.”

Richard drew back his extended arm and turned crimson.

“Don’t be offended, Sir,” said the lawyer; “but the fact is, the authorities here don’t like it.  There are some parties in this place who employ very queer legal advisers; and in shaking hands, a file or a gimlet, and a bit of tobacco, are as likely to pass as not.  That warder can see every thing, my dear young Sir; but he can no more hear what we say than he can understand what a couple of bumble-bees are murmuring about who are barred up in a double window.  We can therefore converse with one another as much without reserve as we please, or rather”—­and here the little man’s eyes twinkled significantly—­“as you please.  What I hear from a client in this ridiculous place is never revealed beyond it, except so far as it may serve his interests.  If Mr. Dodge (to whose favor, as I understand, I owe this introduction) has told you any thing concerning me, he will, I am sure, have advised you to be quite frank and candid.”