So the little crazy lodger goes for the beadle, and the rest come out of the room. “Don’t leave the cat there!” says the surgeon; “that won’t do!” Mr. Krook therefore drives her out before him, and she goes furtively downstairs, winding her lithe tail and l*****g her lips.
“Good night!” says Mr. Tulkinghorn, and goes home to Allegory and meditation.
By this time the news has got into the court. Groups of its inhabitants assemble to discuss the thing, and the outposts of the army of observation (principally boys) are pushed forward to Mr. Krook’s window, which they closely invest. A policeman has already walked up to the room, and walked down again to the door, where he stands like a tower, only condescending to see the boys at his base occasionally; but whenever he does see them, they qu
