In half an hour’s time, he put on his hat and walked out.  Of course, I put on my hat and walked out also.  As I went down stairs, I passed Mrs. Yatman going up.  The lady has been kind enough to undertake, by previous arrangement between us, to search Mr. Jay’s room, while he is out of the way, and while I am necessarily engaged in the pleasing duty of following him wherever he goes.  On the occasion to which I now refer, he walked straight to the nearest tavern, and ordered a couple of mutton-chops for his dinner.  I placed myself in the next box to him, and ordered a couple of mutton-chops for my dinner.  Before I had been in the room a minute, a young man of highly suspicious manners and appearance, sitting at a table opposite, took his glass of porter in his hand and joined Mr. Jay.  I pretended to be reading the newspaper, and listened, as in duty bound, with all my might.

“How are you, my boy?” says the young man.  “Jack has been here, inquiring after you.”

“Did he leave any message?” asks Mr. Jay.

“Yes,” says the other.  “He told me, if I met with you, to say that he wished very particularly to see you to-night; and that he would give you a look-in, at Rutherford Street, at seven o’clock.”

“All right,” says Mr. Jay.  “I’ll get back in time to see him.”

Upon this, the suspicious-looking young man finished his porter, and, saying that he was rather in a hurry, took leave of his friend, (perhaps I should not be wrong, if I said his accomplice?) and left the room.

At twenty-five minutes and a half past six,—­in these serious cases it is important to be particular about time,—­Mr. Jay finished his chops and paid his bill.  At twenty-six minutes and three-quarters, I finished my chops and paid mine.  In ten minutes more I was inside the house in Rutherford Street, and was received by Mrs. Yatman in the passage.  That charming woman’s face exhibited an expression of melancholy and disappointment which it quite grieved me to see.

“I am afraid, Ma’am,” says I, “that you have not hit on any little criminating discovery in the lodger’s room?”

She shook her head and sighed.  It was a soft, languid, fluttering sigh,—­and, upon my life, it quite upset me.  For the moment, I forgot business, and burned with envy of Mr. Yatman.

“Don’t despair, Ma’am,” I said, with an insinuating mildness which seemed to touch her.  “I have heard a mysterious conversation—­I know of a guilty appointment—­and I expect great things from my Peep-Hole and my Pipe-Hole to-night.  Pray, don’t be alarmed, but I think we are on the brink of a discovery.”

Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better of my tender feelings.  I looked,—­winked,—­nodded,—­left her.

When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his mutton-chops in an arm-chair, with his pipe in his mouth.  On his table were two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint-bottle of brandy.  It was then close upon seven o’clock.  As the hour struck, the person described as “Jack” walked in.