The Appointed Time

           ItisnightinLincoln’sInn—perplexedandtroublousvalleyoftheshadowofthelaw,wheresuitorsgenerallyfindbutlittleday—andfatcandlesaresnuffedoutinoffices,andclerkshaverattleddownthecrazywoodenstairsanddispersed.Thebellthatringsatnineo’clockhasceaseditsdolefulclangouraboutnothing;thegatesareshut;andthenight-porter,asolemnwarderwithamightypowerofsleep,keepsguardinhislodge.FromtiersofstaircasewindowscloggedlampsliketheeyesofEquity,blearedArguswithafathomlesspocketforeveryeyeandaneyeuponit,dimlyblinkatthestars.Indirtyuppercasements,hereandthere,hazylittlepatchesofcandlelightrevealwheresomewisedraughtsmanandconveyanceryettoilsfortheentanglementofrealestateinmeshesofsheep-skin,intheaverageratioofaboutadozenofsheeptoanacreofland.Overwhichbee-likeindustrythesebenefactorsoftheirspecieslingeryet,thoughoffice-hoursbepast,thattheymaygive,foreveryday,somegoodaccountatlast.Intheneighbouringcourt,wheretheLordChancelloroftheragandbottleshopdwells,thereisageneraltendencytowardsbeerandsupper.Mrs.PiperandMrs.Perkins,whoserespectivesons,engagedwithacircleofacquaintanceinthegameofhideandseek,havebeenlyinginambushabouttheby-waysofChanceryLaneforsomehoursandscouringtheplainofthesamethoroughfaretotheconfusionofpassengers—Mrs.PiperandMrs.Perkinshavebutnowexchangedcongratulationsonthechildrenbeingabed,andtheystilllingeronadoor-stepoverafewpartingwords.Mr.