Mr. Snagsby arrives hastily in his grey coat and his black sleeves. "Dear me, dear me," he says; "and it has come to this, has it! Bless my soul!"
"Can you give the person of the house any information about this unfortunate creature, Snagsby?" inquires Mr. Tulkinghorn. "He was in arrears with his rent, it seems. And he must be buried, you know."
"Well, sir," says Mr. Snagsby, coughing his apologetic cough behind his hand, "I really don't know what advice I could offer, except sending for the beadle."
"I don't speak of advice," returns Mr. Tulkinghorn. "I could advise--"

Mr. Snagsby arrives hastily. "Dear me, dear me," he says; "and it has come to this! Bless my soul!"
"Can you give us any information about this unfortunate creature?" inquires Mr. Tulkinghorn. "He owed rent, it seems. And he must be buried, you know."
"Well, sir," says Mr. Snagsby, coughing apologetically, "I really don't know what advice I could offer, except sending for the beadle."
"I don't speak of advice," returns Mr. Tulkinghorn. 