"But Will Wilson is not come," said Job in dismay. "Just wait while
I run to his lodgings. I would have done it before, but I thought
they'd be here every minute, and I were afraid of missing them.
I'll be back in no time."
"No, my good fellow, I really must go. Besides, I begin to think
Johnson must have made a mistake, and have fixed with this William
Wilson to meet me at the courts. If you like to wait for him here,
pray make use of my room; but I've a notion I shall find him there:
in which case, I'll send him to your lodging; shall I? You know
where to find me. I shall be here again by eight o'clock, and with
the evidence of this witness that's to prove the alibi, I'll have
the brief drawn out, and in the hands of counsel to-night."
So saying he shook hands with Job, and went his way. The old man
considered for a minute as he lingered at the door, and then bent
his steps towards Mrs. Jones's, where he knew (from reference to
queer, odd, heterogeneous memoranda, in an ancient black-leather
pocket-book) that Will lodged, and where he doubted not he should
hear both of him and of Mary.
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