They
were standing in front of the door of the House, almost in the middle
of the lobby, with a crowd of members around them,--on a spot which,
as frequenters know, is hallowed ground, and must not be trodden by
strangers. He was in the act of answering Erle, when he was touched
on the arm, and on turning round, saw Mr. Clarkson. "About that
little bill, Mr. Finn," said the horrible man, turning his chin round
over his white cravat. "They always tell me at your lodgings that
you ain't at home." By this time a policeman was explaining to Mr.
Clarkson with gentle violence that he must not stand there,--that he
must go aside into one of the corners. "I know all that," said Mr.
Clarkson, retreating. "Of course I do. But what is a man to do when a
gent won't see him at home?" Mr. Clarkson stood aside in his corner
quietly, giving the policeman no occasion for further action against
him; but in retreating he spoke loud, and there was a lull of voices
around, and twenty members at least had heard what had been said.
Phineas Finn no doubt had his privilege, but Mr. Clarkson was
determined that the privilege should avail him as little as possible.
It was very hard. The real offender, the Lord of the Treasury, the
peer's son, with a thousand a year paid by the country was not
treated with this cruel persecution.
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