eight o’clock
` Think , Sir ! ' replied Mr. Weller ; ` why , I think he 's the wictim o ' connubiality , as Blue Beard 's domestic chaplain said , vith a tear of pity , ven he buried him . ' There was no replying to this very apposite conclusion , and , therefore , Mr. Pickwick , after settling the reckoning , resumed his walk to Gray 's Inn . By the time he reached its secluded groves , however , eight o'clock had struck , and the unbroken stream of gentlemen in muddy high-lows , soiled white hats , and rusty apparel , who were pouring towards the different avenues of egress , warned him that the majority of the offices had closed for that day . After climbing two pairs of steep and dirty stairs , he found his anticipations were realised . Mr. Perker 's ` outer door ' was closed ; and the dead silence which followed Mr. Weller 's repeated kicks thereat , announced that the officials had retired from business for the night . ` This is pleasant , Sam , ' said Mr. Pickwick ; ` I should n't lose an hour in seeing him ; I shall not be able to get one wink of sleep to-night , I know , unless I have the satisfaction of reflecting that I have confided this matter to a professional man . '