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These sufficing； however； to inform the visitor that Miss Flite and
her birds are domiciled with a Mrs Blinder； in Bell Yard； he
repairs to that neighbouring place； where Miss Flite （who rises
early that she may be punctual at the Divan of justice held by her
excellent friend the Chancellor） comes running downstairs； with
tears of welcome and with open arms。
“My dear physician！” cries Miss Flite。 “My meritorious；
distinguished； honourable officer！” She uses some odd
expressions； but is as cordial and full of heart as sanity itself can
be—more so than it often is。 Allan； very patient with her； waits
until she has no more raptures to express； then points out Jo；
trembling in a doorway； and tells her how he comes there。
“Where can I lodge him hereabouts for the present？ Now you
have a fund of knowledge and good sense； and can advise me。”
Miss Flite； mighty proud of the compliment； sets herself to
consider； but it is long before a bright thought occurs to her。 Mrs
Blinder is entirely let； and she herself occupies poor Gridley’s
room。 “Gridley！” exclaims Miss Flite； clapping her hands； after a
twentieth repetition of this remark。 “Gridley！ To be sure！ of
course！ My dear physician！ General George will help us out。”
It is hopeless to ask for any information about General George；
and would be； though Miss Flite had not already run upstairs to
put on her pinched bonnet and her poor little shawl； and to arm
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herself with her reticule of documents。 But as she informs her
physician； in her disjointed manner； on coming down in full array；
that General George； whom she often calls upon； knows her dear
Fitz…Jarndyce； and takes a great interest in all connected with her；
Allan is induced to think that they may be in the right way。 So he
tells Jo； for his encouragement； that this walking about will soon
be over now； and they repair to the General’s。 Fortunately it is not
far。
From the exterior of George’s Shooting Gallery； and the long
entry； and the bare perspective beyond it； Allan Woodcourt augurs
well。 He also descries promise in the figure of Mr George himself；
striding towards them in his morning exercise with his pipe in his
mouth； no stock on； and his muscular arms； developed by
broadsword and dumbbell； weightily asserting themselves through
his light shirt…sleeves。
“Your servant； sir；” says Mr George with a military salute。
Good…humouredly smiling all over his broad forehead up into his
crisp hair； he then defers to Miss Flite； as； with great stateliness；
and at some length she performs the courtly ceremony of
presentation。 He winds it up with another “Your servant； sir！” and
another salute。
“Excuse me； sir。 A sailor I believe？” says Mr George。
“I am proud to find I have the air of one；” returns Allan； “But I
am only a sea…going doctor。”
“Indeed； sir！ I should have thought you was a regular blue…
jacket； myself。”
Allan hopes Mr George will forgive his intrusion the more
readily on that account； and particularly that he will not lay aside
his pipe； which； in his politeness； he has testified some intention of
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doing。 “You are very good； sir；” returns the trooper。 “As I know；
by experience； that it’s not disagreeable to Miss Flite； and since it’s
equally agreeable to yourself—” and finishes the sentence by
putting it between his lips again。 Allan proceeds to tell him all he
knows about Jo； unto which the trooper listens with a grave face。
“And that’s the lad； sir； is it？” he inquires； looking along the
entry to where Jo stands staring up at the great letters on the
whitewashed front； which have no meaning in his eyes。
“That’s he；” says Allan。 “And； Mr George； I am in this difficulty
about him。 I am unwilling to place him a hospital； even if I could
procure him immediate admission； because I foresee that he
would not stay there many hours； if he could be so much as got
there。 The same objection applies to a workhouse； supposing I had
the patience to be evaded and shirked； and handed about from
post to pillar in trying to get him into one—which is a system that I
don’t take kindly to。”
“No man does； sir；” returns Mr George。
“I am convinced that he would not remain in either place；
because he is possessed by an extraordinary terror of this person
who ordered him to keep out of the way； in his ignorance； he
believes this person to be everywhere； and cognisant of
everything。”
“I ask your pardon； sir；” says Mr George。 “But you have not
mentioned that party’s name。 Is it a secret； sir？”
“The boy makes it one。 But the name is Bucket。”
“Bucket the Detective； sir？”
“The same man。”
“The man is known to me； sir；” returns the trooper； after
blowing out a cloud of smoke； and squaring his chest； “and the boy
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Bleak House 878
is so far correct that he undoubtedly is a—rum customer。” Mr
George smokes with a profound meaning after this； and surveys
Miss Flite in silence。
“Now； I wish Mr Jarndyce and Miss Summerson at least to
know that this Jo； who tells so strange a story； has reappeared；
and to have it in their power to speak with him； if they should
desire to do so。 Therefore I want to get him； for the present
moment； into any poor lodging kept by decent people； where he
would be admitted。 Decent people and Jo； Mr George；” says Allan；
following the direction of the trooper’s eyes along the entry； “have
not been much acquainted； as you see。 Hence the difficulty。 Do
you happen to know any one in this neighbourhood； who would
receive him for a while； on my paying for him beforehand？”
As he puts the question； he becomes aware of a dirty…faced little
man； standing at the trooper’s elbow； and looking up； with an
oddly twisted figure and countenance； into the trooper’s face。
After a few more puffs at his pipe； the trooper looks down askant
at the little man； and the little man winks up at the trooper。
“Well sir；” says Mr George； “I can assure you that I would
willingly be knocked on the head at any time； if it would be at all
agreeable to Miss Summerson； and consequently I esteem it a
privilege to do that young lady any service； however small。 We are
naturally in the vagabond way here； sir； both myself and Phil。 You
see what the