entered his carriage with slight difficulty, and telling the coachman to drive as fast as possible, pulled down (a general custom with him) all the blinds of the windows.
Meanwhile, Lord Mauleverer, with six friends, was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the seventh guest.
"Our august friend tarries!" quoth the Bishop of , with his hands folded across his capacious stomach. "I fear the turbot your Lordship spoke of may not be the better for the length of the trial."
"Poor fellow!" said the Earl of , slightly yawning.
"Whom do you mean?" asked Mauleverer with a smile. "The Bishop, the Judge, or the turbot!"
"Not one of the three, Mauleverer,—I spoke of the Prisoner."
"Ah, the fine dog! I forgot him," said Mauleverer. "Really, now you mention him, I must confess that he inspires me with great compassion; but, indeed, it is very wrong in him to keep the Judge so long!"
