It was a few hours before Jergens decided to give up on waiting. Several servants and lesser merchants entered and exited the iron gates, but never Bartleby himself. Refusing disappointment, Jergens decided to snoop around the town and gather some more information.

It was not long before he came across a little old lady sitting on her house stoop. Jergens thought this would be fine asking bait. Casually, he walked over and extended a grime-covered hand to the woman. “Hey missy, mind if I ask ya some questions?” he asked, putting on his most charming face. The old woman, a spry old thing in her seventies, cracked a toothless grin at him, her pink gums shining in the sunlight. “Well, boy, you certainly came to the right place if you got questions.” She scooted over on her stoop, letting Jergens sit next to her. Jergens complied and sat down, letting his eyes scan over the cobblestone path in front of them. “You see here, boy, I’ve lived here all my life. So, what do ya want to know?” she looked at the boy, her wrinkles perfectly framing her sparkling blue eyes, untouched by age. “Well… What can you tell me about that big merchant Mister Bartleby that everyone round’ here talks about?” Jergens knew what would be the automatic answer. The old woman grimaced. “Oh, that prissy pussy-footer?” she spat. “What a joke, never even comes out to talk to any of his costumers… You meet him, and you know he’s a regular asshole.” She pressed her lips together and formed a fine line of defiance. “Yeah… I gathered that.” Jergens chuckled. “How do you think I might be able to land a job with him?” he asked, stretching his lean arms in front of him.

The old woman thought this over for a moment. “Well… I wouldn't know, son. His servants all come from the same family. I’ve never seen him just get up and hire someone.” She looked up at Jergens and then smiled a sly, sinister smile.