CHAPTER IX.
THE JUDGE LEAVES HIS HOUSE.
MRS. Flora Carwell was going up the great staircase with a posset for the Judge in a china bowl, on a little silver tray. Across the top of the well-staircase there runs a massive oak rail; and, raising her eyes accidentally, she saw an extremely odd-looking stranger, slim and long, leaning carelessly over with a pipe between his ringer and thumb. Nose, lips, and chin seemed all to droop downward into extraordinary length, as he leant his odd peering face over the
