In response to a beckoning finger the gutter-snipe took the doorway and the staircase at a bound.

Like all his kind, he was a good judge of character, and one glance had assured him that he was speeding upon a visit of profit.

Half a postman's knock--a sharp, insistent stroke--and he entered, his thin weasel-like face thrust forward, his eyes glittering.

The fire in such eyes is always cold, for hunger is poor fuel to the native flame of life.
"Extra speshul, m'lord--all about Kruger's guns." He held out the paper to the figure that darkened the window, and he pronounced the g in Kruger soft, as in Scrooge.
The hand that took the paper deftly slipped a shilling into the cold, skinny palm.

At its first touch the face of the paper-vender fell, for it was the same size as a halfpenny; but even before the swift fingers had had a chance to feel the coin, or the glance went down, the face regained its confidence, for the eyes looking at him were generous.