 59. When Kit, having discharged his errand, came downstairs from the single gentleman's apartment after the lapse of a quarter of an hour or so, Mr. Sampson Brass was alone in the office. He was not singing as usual, nor was he seated at his desk. The open door showed him standing before the fire, with his back towards it, and looking so very strange that Kit supposed he must have been suddenly taken ill. "'Is anything the matter, sir?' said Kit. "'Matter?' cried Brass. "'No. Why, anything the matter?' "'You're so very pale,' said Kit, "'then I should hardly have known you.' "'Poo! Poo! Mere fancy!' cried Brass, stooping to throw up the cinders. "'Never better, Kit. Never better in all my life. Merry, too! Ha-ha! How's our friend above stairs, eh?' "'A great deal better,' said Kit. "'I'm glad to hear it,' rejoined Brass. "'Thankful, I may say. An excellent gentleman, worthy, liberal, generous, gives very little trouble, an admirable lodger. Ha-ha-ha! Mr. Garland, he's well, I hope, Kit, and the pony, my friend, my particular friend, you know. Ha-ha-ha!' Kit gave a satisfactory account of all the little household at Abel Cottage. Mr. Brass, who seemed remarkably inattentive and impatient, mounted on his stool and beckoning him to come nearer, took him by the button-hole. "'I have been thinking, Kit,' said the lawyer, that I could throw some little emoluments in your mother's way. You have a mother, I think, if I recollect right. You told me.' "'Oh, yes, sir. Yes, certainly.' "'A widow, I think, an industrious widow.' "'A harder-working woman, or a better mother, never lived, sir.' "'Ah!' cried Brass. It's affecting—truly affecting—a poor widow struggling to maintain her orphans and decency and comfort, as a delicious picture of human goodness, sir. Put down your hat, Kit. "'Thank you, sir. I must be going directly. Put it down while you stay at any rate,' said Brass, taking it from him, and making some confusion among the papers, in finding a place for it on the desk. "'I was thinking, Kit, that we have often houses to let for people we are concerned for, and matters of that sort. Now, you know, we're obliged to put people into those houses to take care of them. Very often, undeserving people that we can't depend upon. What's to prevent our having a person that we can depend upon, and enjoying the delight of doing a good action at the same time? I say, what's to prevent our employing this worthy woman your mother? What with one job and another, there's lodging and good lodging, too? Pretty well all year round. Rent-free and a weekly allowance besides, Kit, and I would provide her with a great many comforts she don't at present enjoy. Now, what do you think of that? Do you see any objection? My only desire is to serve you, Kit. Therefore, if you do, say so freely." As Brass spoke, he moved the hat twice or thrice, and shuffled among the papers again, as if in search of something. "'How can I see any objection to such a kind offer, sir?' replied Kit, with his whole heart. "'I don't know how to thank you, sir. I don't indeed.' "'Why, then?' said Brass, suddenly turning upon him, and thrusting his face close to Kit's, with such a repulsive smile that the latter, even in the very height of his gratitude, drew back, quite startled. Why, then, it's done.' Kit looked at him in some confusion. "'Done,' I say.' Added Samson, rubbing his hands and veiling himself again in his usual oily manner. Ha-ha! And so you shall find, Kit. So you shall find. "'But, dear me,' said Brass, "'what a time, Mr. Richard is gone. A sad loiterer, to be sure. Will you mind the office one minute, while I run upstairs? Only one minute. I'll not detain you an instant longer on any account, Kit.' Talking as he went, Mr. Brass bustled out of the office, and in a very short time returned. Mr. Swivler came back almost at the same instant, and as Kit was leaving the room hastily, to make up for lost time, Miss Brass herself encountered him in the doorway. "'Oh!' sneered Sally, looking after him as she entered. "'There goes your pet, Sammy. Eh?' "'Ah! There he goes,' replied Brass. "'My pet, if you please. An honest fellow, Mr. Richard, a worthy fellow, indeed.' "'Cough, Miss Brass. I tell you, you aggravating vagabond,' said the angry Samson, that I'd stick my life upon his honesty. Am I never to hear the last of this? Am I always to be baited and beset by your mean suspicions? Have you no regard for true merit, you malignant fellow? If you come to that, I'd sooner suspect your honesty than his.' Miss Sally pulled out the tin snuff-box, and took a long, slow pinch, regarding her brother with a steady gaze all the time. "'She drives me wild, Mr. Richard, sir,' said Brass. "'She exasperates me, beyond all bearing. I am heated and excited, sir. I know I am. These are not business manners, sir. Your business looks, but she carries me out of myself.' "'Why don't you leave him alone?' said Dick. "'Because she can't,' retorted Brass, "'because the chife and vex me is a part of her nature, sir. And she will, and must, do it, or I don't believe she'd have her health.' "'But never mind,' said Brass, "'never mind. I've carried my point. I've shown my confidence in the lad. He has minded the office again. Ha! Ha! Urgh! You viper!' The beautiful virgin took another pinch, and put the snuff-box in her pocket, still looking at her brother with perfect composure. "'He has minded the office again,' said Brass, tie-infantly. "'He has had my confidence, and he shall continue to have it. He—' Hmm! Why?' "'Where's the—' "'What have you lost?' inquired Mr. Swiveller. "'Dear me!' said Brass, slapping all his pockets, one after another, and looking into his desk, and under it, and upon it, and wildly tossing the papers about. "'The note, Mr. Richard, the five-pound note, what can have become of it? I laid it down here. God bless me!' "'What!' cried Miss Sally, starting up, clapping her hands, and scattering the papers on the floor. "'Gone!' "'Now who's right? Now who's got it? Never mind five pounds. What's five pounds? He's honest, you know, quite honest. It would be mean to suspect him. Don't run after him. No, no, not for the world.' "'Is it really gone now?' said Dick, looking at Brass with a face as pale as his own. Upon my word, Mr. Richard, sir,' replied the lawyer, feeling in all his pockets with looks of the greatest agitation, I fear this is a black business. It's certainly gone, sir. What's to be done?' "'Don't run after him,' said Miss Sally, taking more snuff. "'Don't run after him on any account. Give him time to get rid of it, you know. It would be cruel to find him out.' Mr. Swiveller and Samson Brass looked from Miss Sally to each other in a state of bewilderment, and then, as by one impulse, caught up their hats and rushed out into the street. Cutting along in the middle of the road and dashing aside all obstructions as though they were running for their lives. It happened that Kit had been running too, though not so fast, and having the start of them by some few minutes was a good distance ahead. As they were pretty certain of the road he must have taken, however, and kept on at a great pace, they came up with him at the very moment when he had taken breath and was breaking into a run again. "'Stop!' cried Samson, laying his hand on the one shoulder, while Mr. Swiveller pounced upon the other. "'Not so fast, sir. You're in a hurry?' "'Yes, I am,' said Kit, looking from one to the other in great surprise. "'I—I can hardly believe it,' panted Samson, by something of value is missing from the office. "'I hope you don't know what?' "'Know what?' "'God-heaven, Mr. Brass!' cried Kit, trembling from head to foot. "'You don't suppose?' "'No, no.' rejoined Brass quickly. "'I don't suppose anything. Don't say I said you did. You'll come back quietly, I hope.' "'Of course I will,' returned Kit. "'Why not?' "'To be sure,' said Brass. "'Why not?' "'I hope they're mating out to be. No, why not? If you knew the trouble I've been in this morning through taking your part, Christopher, you'd be sorry for it.' "'In I'm sure, you'd be sorry for having suspected me, sir,' replied Kit. "'Come, let us make haste back.' "'Certainly,' cried Brass, that quicker the better. "'Mr. Richard, have the goodness, sir, to take that arm. I'll take this one. It's not easy walking through your breast, but under the circumstances it must be done, sir. There's no help for it.'" Kit did turn from white to red, and from red to white again, when they secured him thus, and for a moment seemed disposed to resist. But quickly recollecting himself and remembering that if he made any struggle he would perhaps be dragged by the collar through the public streets. He only repeated, with great earnestness, and with the tears standing in his eyes, that they would be sorry for this, and suffered them to lead him off. While they were on their way back, Mr. Swiveller, upon whom his present functions sat very irksomely, took an opportunity of whispering in his ear that if he would confess his guilt even by so much as a nod, and promise not to do so any more, he would connive at his kicking Samson Brass on the shins and escaping up a court. But Kit indignantly rejecting this proposal, Mr. Richard had nothing for it, but to hold him tight until they reached beavers' marks, and ushered him into the presence of the charming Sarah, who immediately took the precaution of locking the door. "'Now, you know,' said Brass, "'if this is a case of innocence, it is a case of that description, Christopher, where the fullest disclosure is the best satisfaction for everybody. Therefore, if you consent to an examination,' he demonstrated what kind of examination he meant by turning back the cuffs of his coat. It will be a comfortable and pleasant thing for all parties.' "'Search me,' said Kit, proudly holding up his arms. "'But mind, sir. I know you'll be sorry for this, to the last day of your life.' "'It is certainly a very painful occurrence,' said Brass, with a sigh, as he dived into one of Kit's pockets, and fished up a miscellaneous collection of small articles. Very painful. Nothing here, Mr. Richard, sir, or perfectly satisfactory. Nor here, sir. Nor in the waist coat, Mr. Richard, nor in the coat-tails. So far I am rejoiced, I am sure.' Kit Swivler, holding Kit's hat in his hand, was watching the proceedings with great interest, and bore upon his face the slightest possible indication of a smile, as Brass, shutting one of his eyes, looked at the other up the inside of one of the poor fellow's sleeves, as if it were a telescope, when Sampson, turning hastily to him, bait him to search the hat. "'Is a chief,' said Dick, "'no harm in that, sir,' rejoined Brass, applying his eye to the other sleeve, and speaking in the voice of one who was contemplating an immense extent of prospect. No harm in a handkerchief, sir, whatever. The faculty don't consider it a healthy custom, I believe, Mr. Richard, to carry one's handkerchief in one's hat. I have heard that it keeps the head too warm, but in every other point of view its being there is extremely satisfactory. Extremely so.' An exclamation, at once from Richard Swivler, Miss Sally and Kit himself cut the lawyer short. He turned his head and saw Dick standing with the bank-note in his hand. "'In the hat!' cried Brass, in a sort of shriek. "'And of the anchor-chief! And tap beneath the lining,' said Dick, aghast at the discovery. Mr. Brass looked at him, at his sister, at the walls, at the ceiling, at the floor, everywhere, but at Kit, who stood quite stupefied and motionless. "'And this,' cried Samson, clasping his hands, "'is the world that turns upon its own axis, and has lunar influences and revolutions round heavenly bodies and various games of that sort. This is human nature, is it? Oh, nature! Nature! This is the miscreant that I was going to benefit with all my little arts, and that even now I feel so much for as to wish to let him go. But,' added Mr. Brass, with greater fortitude, "'I am myself a lawyer, and bound to set an example in carrying the laws of my happy country into effect. Sally, my dear, forgive me, and catch hold of him on the other side. Mr. Richarder, have the goodness to run and fetch a constable. The weakness is passed on over, sir, and moral strength returns. Ah, constable, sir, if you please.' End of Chapter 59 Chapter 60 of the Old Curiosity Shop Kit stood as one entranced, with his eyes opened wide and fixed upon the ground, regardless alike of the treblous hold which Mr. Brass maintained on one side of his cravat, and of the firmer grasp of Miss Sally upon the other. Although this latter detention was in itself no small inconvenience, as that fascinating woman, besides screwing her knuckles inconveniently into his throat from time to time, had fastened upon him in the first instance the so tight a grip that even in the disorder and distraction of his thoughts he could not divest himself of an uneasy sense of choking. Between the brother and sister he remained in this posture, quite unresisting and passive, until Mr. Swivler returned with a police constable at his heels. This functionary being, of course, well used to such scenes, looking upon all kinds of robbery from petty larceny up to house-breaking or ventures on the highway, as matters in the regular course of business, and regarding the perpetrators in the light of so many customers coming to be served at the wholesale and retail shop of criminal law where he stood behind the counter, received Mr. Brass's statement of facts with about as much interest and surprise as an undertaker might evince if required to listen to a circumstantial account of the last illness of a person whom he was called into wait upon professionally, and took Kit into custody with a decent indifference. Weird, better, said the subordinate minister of justice, get to the office while there's a magistrate sitting. I shall want you to come along with us, Mr. Brass, and he looked at Miss Sally as if in some doubt whether she might not be a griffin or other fabulous monster. The lady, eh? said Samson. Oh, replied the constable. Yes, the lady. Likewise, the young man that found the property. Mr. Richard, sir, said Brass in a mournful voice, a sad necessity, but the altar of our country, sir. You'll have acne-coach, I suppose. Interrupted the constable, holding Kit, whom his other captors had released, carelessly by the arm, a little above the elbow. Be so good at the send from one, will you? But hear me speak a word, cried Kit, raising his eyes and looking imploringly about him. Hear me speak a word. I am no more guilty than any one of you. Upon my soul I am not. I of thief. Oh, Mr. Brass, you know me better. I'm sure you know me better. This is not right of you indeed. I give you my word, constable, said Brass. But hear the constable interposed with the constitutional principle, words be blowed, observing that words were but spoon-meat for babes and sucklings, and that oaths were the food for strong men. Quite true, constable, assented Brass in the same mournful tone, strictly correct. I give you my oath, constable, that down to a few minutes ago, when this fatal discovery was made, I had such confidence in that lad, that I'd have trusted him with a hackney coach, Mr. Richard, sir. You're very slow, sir. Who is there that knows me? cried Kit, that would not trust me. It does not. Ask anybody whether they have ever doubted me, whether I've ever wronged them of a farthing. Of course I ever once dishonest when I was poor and angry, and is it likely I would begin now? I'll consider what you do. How can I meet the kindest friends that ever human creature had with this dreadful charge upon me? Mr. Brass rejoined, that it would have been well for the prisoner if he had thought of that before, and was about to make some other gloomy observations when the voice of the single gentleman was heard, demanding from above-stairs what was the matter and what was the cause of all that noise and hurry. Kit made an involuntary start towards the door in his anxiety to answer for himself, but being speedily detained by the constable, had the agony of seeing Samson Brass run out alone to tell the story in his own way. But he can hardly believe it either, said Samson when he returned, nor nobody will. I wish I could doubt the evidence of my senses, but their depositions are unimpeachable. It's of no use cross-examining my eyes, cried Samson, winking and rubbing them. They stick to their first account, and will. Now, Sarah, I hear the coach in the marks. Get on your bonnet, and be off. A sad errand. A moral funeral. Quite. Mr. Brass, said Kit, do me one favour. Tight me to Mr. Witherdon's first. Samson shook his head irresolutely. Do, said Kit, my master's there. For heaven's sake, tight me there first. Well, I don't know. Stammered Brass, who perhaps had his reasons for wishing to show as fair as possible in the eyes of the notary. How do we stand in point of time, Constable? The Constable, who had been chewing a straw all this while with great philosophy, replied that if they went away at once they would have time enough. But that if they stood shilly-shallying there any longer they must go straight to the mansion-house, and finally expressed his opinion that that was where it was, and that was all about it. Mr. Richard Swiveller, having arrived inside the coach, and still remaining immovable in the most commodious corner with his face to the horses, Mr. Brass instructed the officer to remove his prisoner and declared himself quite ready. Therefore the Constable, still holding Kit in the same manner, and pushing him on a little before him so as to keep him at about three-quarters of an arm's length in advance, which is the professional mode, thrust him into the vehicle, and followed himself. Miss Sally entered next, and there being now four inside, Samson Brass got upon the box, and made the coachman drive on. Still completely stunned by the sudden and terrible change which had taken place in his affairs, Kit sat gazing out of the coach window, almost hoping to see some monstrous phenomenon in the streets which might give him reason to believe he was in a dream. Alas! everything was too real and familiar. The same succession of turnings, the same houses, the same streams of people running side by side in different directions upon the pavement, the same bustle of carts and carriages in the road, the same well-remembered objects in the shop windows, a regularity in the very noise and hurry which no dream ever mirrored. Dreamlike as the story was, it was true. He stood charged with robbery. The note had been found upon him, though he was innocent and thought indeed, and they were carrying him back, a prisoner. Absorbed in these painful ruminations, thinking with the drooping heart of his mother and little Jacob, feeling as though even the consciousness of innocence would be insufficient to support him in the presence of his friends if they believed him guilty, and sinking in hope and courage more and more as they drew nearer to the notaries, poor Kit was looking earnestly out of the window, observant of nothing, and all at once, as though it had been conjured up by magic, he became aware of the face of quilp. And what a leer there was upon the face! It was from the open window of a tavern that it looked out, and the dwarf had so spread himself over it, with his elbows on the windowsill, and his head resting on both his hands, that what between this attitude and his being swollen with suppressed laughter, he looked puffed and bloated into twice as usual breath. Mr. Brass, on recognising him, immediately stopped the coach. As it came to a halt directly opposite to where he stood, the dwarf pulled off his hat, and saluted the party with a hideous and grotesque politeness. Ah-ha! he cried, Where now, Brass? Where now? Sally with you, too? Sweet Sally! And Dick! Pleasant Dick! And Kit! Honest Kit! He's extremely cheerful, said Brass to the coachman. Very much so. Ah, sir, a sad business. Never believe in honesty any more, sir. Why not? returned the dwarf. Why not? you rogue of a lawyer. Why not? Bank note. Lost in our office, said Brass, shaking his head. Found in his hat, sir. He previously left alone there. No mistake at all, sir. Chain of evidence complete. Not a link wanting. What? cried the dwarf, leaning half his body out of window. Kit a thief! Kit a thief! Why, he's an uglier-looking thief than can be seen anywhere for a penny. A kid, a. Have you taken Kit into custody before he had time and opportunity to beat me? A kid, a. And with that he burst into a yell of laughter, manifestly to the great terror of the coachman, and pointed to a dyer's pole hard by, where a dangling suit of clothes bore some resemblance to a man upon a gibbet. Is it coming to that, Kit? cried the dwarf, rubbing his hands violently. What a disappointment for little Jacob and for his darling mother! Let him have the Bethelmanister to comfort and console him, Brass. A kid, a. Drive on, coachy, drive on. Bye-bye, Kit. All good-go with you. Keep up your spirit. My love to the garlands. The dear old lady and gentleman. Say I inquired after him. Will you blessings on him, on you, and on every body, Kit? Blessings on all the world. With such good wishes and farewells, poured out in a rapid torrent until they were out of hearing, Coup suffered them to depart, and when he could see the coach no longer, drew in his head and rolled upon the ground in an ecstasy of enjoyment. When they reached the notaries, which they were not long in doing, for they had encountered the dwarf in a by-street at a very little distance from the house, Mr. Brass dismounted, and opening the coach-door with a melancholy visage, requested his sister to accompany him into the office, with the view of preparing the good people within for the mournful intelligence that awaited them. Miss Sally complying, he desired Mr. Swivola to accompany them. So into the office they went, Mr. Sampson and his sister arm in arm, and Mr. Swivola following alone. The notary was standing before the fire in the outer office, talking to Mr. Abel and the elder Mr. Garland, while Mr. Chuckster sat writing at the desk, picking up such crumbs of their conversation as happened to fall in his way. This posture of affairs Mr. Brass observed through the glass door, as he was turning the handle, and seeing that the notary recognised him, he began to shake his head and sigh deeply, while that partition yet divided them. Sir, said Sampson, taking off his hat, and kissing the two forefingers of his right hand, beaver-glove, my name is Brass. Brass of beaver's marks, sir. I have had the honour and pleasure, sir, of being concerned against you in some little testamentary matters. How do you do, sir? My clerk will attend to any business you may have come upon, Mr. Brass. Said the notary, turning away. Thank you, sir. Said Brass. Thank you, I am sure. Allow me, sir, to introduce my sister. Quite one of us, sir, although of the weaker sex. Oh, great use in my business, sir, I assure you. Mr. Richard, sir, have the goodness to come forward, if you please. No. Really? Said Brass, stepping between the notary and his private office, towards which he had begun to retreat, and speaking in the tone of an injured man. Really, sir, I must, under favour, request a word or two with you indeed. Mr. Brass, said the other in a decided tone, I am engaged. You see that I am occupied with these gentlemen. If you will communicate your business to Mr. Chuckster Yonder, you will receive every attention. Gentleman! Said Brass, laying his right hand on his waistcoat, and looking towards the father and son with a smooth smile. Gentleman, I appeal to you. Really, gentlemen, consider I beg of you. I am of the law. I am styled a gentleman by active parliament. I maintain the title by the annual payment of £12 sterling for a certificate. I am not one of your players of music, stage actors, writers of books, or painters of pictures, who assume a station that the laws of their country don't recognise. I am none of your strollers or vagabonds. If any man brings his action against me, he must describe me as a gentleman, or his action is null and void. I appeal to you. Is this quite respectful? Really, gentlemen? Well, will you have the goodness to state your business then, Mr. Brass? Said the notary. Sir, rejoin Brass. I will. Ah, Mr. Witherton, you little know the— But I will not be tempted to travel from the point, sir. I believe the name of one of these gentlemen is Garland. Of both, said the notary. Indeed, rejoin Brass, cringing excessively. But I might have known that from the uncommon likeness. Extremely happy, I am sure, to have the honour of an introduction to two such gentlemen, although the occasion is a most painful one. One of you gentlemen has a servant called Kit. Both, replied the notary. Two Kits, said Brass, smiling. Dear me, one Kit, sir, return Mr. Witherton angrily, who is employed by both gentlemen. What of him? This of him, sir. Rejoin Brass, dropping his voice impressively. That young man, sir, that I have felt unbounded and unlimited confidence in, and always behave to as if he was my equal, that young man has this morning committed a robbery in my office, and been taken almost in the fact. This must be some falsehood, cried the notary. It is not possible. Said Mr. Abel. I'll not believe one word of it. exclaimed the old gentleman. Mr. Brass looked mildly round upon them and rejoined. Mr. Witherton, sir, your words are actionable. And if I was a man of low and mean standing who couldn't afford to be slandered, I should proceed for damages. How so, sir? Being what I am, I merely scorn such expressions. The honest warmth of the other gentleman I respect and I am truly sorry to be the messenger of such unpleasant news. I shouldn't have put myself in this painful position, I assure you, but that the lad himself desired to be brought here in the first instance, and I yielded to his prayers. Mr. Chuckster, sir, will you have the goodness to tap at the window for the constable that's waiting in the coach? The three gentlemen looked at each other with blank faces when these words were uttered. And Mr. Chuckster, doing as he was desired, and leaping off his stool with something of the excitement of an inspired prophet whose foretellings had in the fullness of time been realised, held the door open for the entrance of the wretched captive. Such a scene as there was when Kit came in and bursting into the rude eloquence with which truth at length inspired him, called heaven to witness that he was innocent, and that how the property came to be found upon him he knew not. Such a confusion of tongues before the circumstances were related and the proofs disclosed. Such a dead silence when all was told, and his three friends exchanged looks of doubt and amazement. Is it not possible, said Mr. Witherdon after a long pause, that this note may have found its way into the hat by some accident, such as the removal of papers on the desk, for instance? But this was clearly shown to be quite impossible. Mr. Swivola, though an unwilling witness, could not help proving to demonstration from the position in which it was found that it must have been designately secreted. It's very distressing, said Brass, immensely distressing, I am sure. When he comes to be tried, I shall be very happy to recommend him to Mercy on account of his previous good character. I did lose money before, certainly, but it doesn't quite follow that he took it. The presumptions against him, strongly against him, but we are Christians, I hope. I suppose, said the Constable looking round, that no gentleman here can give evidence as to whether he's been flush of money of light. Do you happen to know, sir? He has had money from time to time, certainly. Returned Mr. Garland, to whom the man had put the question. But that, as he always told me, was given him by Mr. Brass himself. Yes, to be sure, said Kit eagerly. You can bear me out in that, sir. Eh? cried Brass, looking from face to face with an expression of stupid amazement. The money, you know, the off-crowns that you gave me from the lodger, said Kit. Oh, dear me! cried Brass, shaking his head and frowning heavily. This is a bad case, I find. A very bad case indeed. What? Did you give him no money on account of anybody, sir? Asked Mr. Garland, with great anxiety. I give him money, sir? returned Samson. Oh, come, you know, this is too bare-faced. Constable, my good fellow, we had better be going. What? shrieked Kit. Does he deny that he did? Ask him somebody, pray. Ask him to tell you whether he did or not. Did you, sir? asked the notary. I tell you what, gentlemen, replied Brass, in a very grave manner. He'll not serve his case this way, and really, if you feel any interest in him, you'd better advise him to go upon some other tack. Did I, sir? Of course I never did. Gentlemen, cried Kit, on whom a light broke suddenly. Master, Mr. Abel, Mr. Witherton, every one of you, he did it. What I have done to offend him, I don't know, but this is a plot to ruin me. Mind, gentlemen, it's a plot. And whenever comes of it, I will say with my dying breath that he put that note in my hat himself. Look at him, gentlemen. See how he changes colour. Which of us looks the guilty person, he or I? You hear him, gentlemen? said Brass, smiling. You hear him. Now, does this case strike you as assuming rather a black complexion, or does it not? Is it at all a treacherous case, do you think? Or is it one of mere ordinary guilt? Perhaps, gentlemen, if he had not said this in your presence, and I had reported it, you'd have held this to be impossible likewise, eh? With such pacific and bantering remarks did Mr. Brass refute the foul dispersion on his character, but the virtuous Sarah, moved by stronger feelings and having at heart perhaps a more jealous regard for the honour of her family, flew from her brother's side without any previous intimation of her design and darted at the prisoner with the utmost fury. It would undoubtedly have gone hard with Kit's face, but that the wary Constable, for seeing her design, drew him aside at the critical moment, and thus placed Mr. Chuckster in circumstances of some jeopardy, for that gentleman happening to be next the object of Miss Brass' wrath, and rage being, like love and fortune, blind, was punched upon by the fair enslave, and had a false collar plucked up by the roots and his hair very much dishevelled before the exertions of the company could make her sensible of her mistake. The Constable, taking warning by this desperate attack, and thinking perhaps that it would be more satisfactory to the ends of justice if the prisoner were taken before a magistrate whole rather than in small pieces, let him back to the hackney coach without more ado, and moreover insisted on Miss Brass becoming an outside passenger, to which proposal the charming creature, after a little angry discussion, yielded her consent, and so took her brother Samson's place upon the box. Mr. Brass, with some reluctance, agreeing to occupy her seat inside. These arrangements perfected, they drove to the justice-room with all speed, followed by the notary and his two friends in another coach. Mr. Chuckster alone was left behind, greatly to his indignation, for he held the evidence he could have given, relative to Kitt's returning to work out the shilling, to be so very material as bearing upon his hypocritical and designing character, that he considered its suppression little better than a compromise of felony. At the justice-room they found the single gentleman, who had gone straight there, and was expecting them with desperate impatience. But not fifty single gentleman rolled into one could have helped poor Kitt, who in half an hour afterwards was committed for trial, and was assured by a friendly officer on his way to prison, that there was no occasion to be cast down, for the sessions would soon be on, and he would, in all likelihood, get his little affair disposed of and be comfortably transported in less than a fortnight. End of Chapter Sixty Chapter Sixty-one of the Old Curiosity Shop This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Mill Nicholson The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens Chapter Sixty-one Let moralists and philosophers say what they may. It is very questionable whether a guilty man would have felt half as much misery that night as Kitt did, being innocent. The world, being in the constant commission of vast quantities of injustice, is a little too apt to comfort itself with the idea that if the victim of its falsehood and malice have a clear conscience, he cannot fail to be sustained under his trials, and somehow or other to come right at last. In which case, say they who have hunted him down, though we certainly don't expect it, nobody will be better pleased than we. Whereas the world would do well to reflect, that injustice is in itself to every generous and properly constituted mind and injury, of all others the most insufferable, the most torturing, and the most hard to bear, and that many clear consciences have gone to their account elsewhere, and many sound hearts have broken because of this very reason, the knowledge of their own desserts only aggravating their sufferings and rendering them the less endurable. The world, however, was not in fault in Kitt's case, but Kitt was innocent, and knowing this, and feeling that his best friends deemed him guilty, that Mr. and Mrs. Garland would look upon him as a monster of ingratitude, that Barbara would associate him with all that was bad and criminal, that the pony would consider himself forsaken, and that even his own mother might, perhaps, yield to the strong appearances against him, and believe him to be the wretch he seemed. Knowing and feeling all this, he experienced at first an agony of mind which no words can describe, and walked up and down the little cell in which he was locked up for the night, almost beside himself with grief. Even when the violence of these emotions had in some degree subsided, and he was beginning to grow more calm, there came into his mind a new thought, the anguish of which was scarcely less. The child, the bright star of the simple fellow's life, she who always came back upon him like a beautiful dream, who had made the poorest part of his existence the happiest and best, who had ever been so gentle and considerate and good, if she were ever to hear of this, what would she think? As this idea occurred to him, the waters of the prison seemed to melt away, and the old place to reveal itself in their stead, as it was wont to be on winter nights, the fireside, the little supper-table, the old man's hats and coat and stick, the half-open door leading to her little room, they were all there, and Nell herself was there, and he, both laughing heartily as they had often done, and when he had got as far as this, Kit could go no farther, but flung himself upon his poor bedstead and wept. It was a long night, which seemed as though it would have no end, but he slept, too, and dreamed, always of being at liberty, and roving about, now with one person and now with another, but ever with a vague dread of being recalled to prison, not that prison, but one which was in itself a dim idea, not of a place, but of a care and sorrow, of something oppressive and always present, and yet impossible to define. At last the morning dawned, and there was the jail itself, cold, black, and dreary, and very real indeed. He was left to himself, however, and there was comfort in that. He had liberty to walk in a small paved yard at a certain hour, and learned from the turnkey, who came to unlock his cell and show him where to wash, that there was a regular time for visiting every day, and that if any of his friends came to see him, he would be fetched down to the great. When he had given him this information, and a tin porringer containing his breakfast, the man locked him up again, and went clattering along the stone passage, opening and shutting a great many other doors, and raising numberless loud echoes, which resounded through the building for a long time, as if they were in prison too, and unable to get out. This turnkey had given him to understand that he was lodged, like some few others in the jail, apart from the mass of prisoners, because he was not supposed to be utterly depraved and irreclaimable, and had never occupied apartments in that mansion before. Kit was thankful for this indulgence, and sat reading the church catechism very attentively, though he had known it by heart from a little child, until he heard the key in the lock, and the man entered again. Now then, he said, come on. Where to, sir? asked Kit. The man contented himself by briefly replying, whizzed as, and taking him by the arm in exactly the same manner as the Constable had done the day before, led him through several winding ways and strong gates into a passage where he placed him at a grating, and turned upon his heel. Beyond this grating, at the distance of about four or five feet, was another exactly like it. In the space between sat a turnkey reading a newspaper, and outside the further railing Kit saw with a palpitating heart his mother with the baby in her arms, Barbara's mother with her never-failing umbrella, and poor little Jacob staring in with all his might as though he were looking for the bird or the wild beast, and thought the men were mere accidents with whom the bars could have no possible concern. But when little Jacob saw his brother, and thrusting his arms between the rails to hug him, found that he came no nearer, but still stood afar off with his head resting on the arm by which he held to one of the bars, he began to cry most pitiously, whereupon Kit's mother and Barbara's mother, who had restrained themselves as much as possible, burst out sobbing and weeping afresh. Poor Kit could not help joining them, and not one of them could speak a word. During this melancholy pause the turnkey read his newspaper with a waggish look. He had evidently got among the facetious paragraphs. Until, happening to take his eyes off for an instant, as if to get by dint of contemplation at the very marrow of some joke of a deeper sort than the rest, it appeared to occur to him, for the first time, that somebody was crying. "'Now, ladies, ladies,' he said, looking round with surprise, I'd advise you not to waste time like this. It's a lousy, you know. You mustn't let that child make that noise, either. It's against all rules.' "'I'm his poor mother, sir,' sobbed Mrs. Nobles, curting humbly. "'And this is his brother, sir. Oh, dear, dear me.' "'Well,' replied the turnkey, folding his paper on his knee, so as to get with greater convenience at the top of the next column, "'it can't be helped, you know. He ain't the only one in the same fix. You mustn't make a noise about it.' With that, he went on reading. The man was not unnaturally cruel or hard-hearted. He had come to look upon felony as a kind of disorder, like the scarlet fever, or erycyplis. Some people had it, some hadn't, just as it might be. "'Oh, my darling kid,' said his mother, whom Barbara's mother had charitably relieved of the baby, "'that I should see my poor boy here.' "'You don't believe I did what they accused me of, mother dear?' cried Kit in a choking voice. "'I believe it,' exclaimed the poor woman. "'I, that never knew you tell a lie, or do a bad action from your cradle, that I've never had a moment of sorrow on your account, except it was the poor meals that you have taken with such good humour and content, that I forgot how little there was, when I thought how kind and thoughtful you were, though you were but a child. I believe it of the son that's been a comfort to me from the hour of his birth until this time, and that I never lay down one night in anger with. I believe it of you, Kit.' "'Why, then, thank God,' said Kit, clutching the bars with an earnestness that shook them. "'I can bear it, mother. Come what may, I shall always have one drop of that meanness in my heart, when I think that you said that.' At this the poor woman fell a-crying again, and Barbara's mother too, and little Jacob, whose disjointed thoughts had by this time resolved themselves and to a pretty distinct impression that Kit couldn't go out for a walk if he wanted, and that there were no birds, lions, tigers, or other natural curiosities behind those bars—nothing indeed, but a caged brother. Added his tears to theirs, but as little noise as possible. Kit's mother, drying her eyes, and moistening them, poor soul, more than she dried them, now took from the ground a small basket, and submissively addressed herself to the turnkey, saying would he please to listen to her for a minute. The turnkey, being in the very crisis and passion of a joke, motioned to her with his hand to keep silent one minute longer for her life. Nor did he remove his hand into its former posture, but kept it in the same warning attitude until he had finished the paragraph, when he paused for a few seconds with a smile upon his face as who should say this editor is a comical blade, a funny dog, and then asked her what she wanted. I've brought him a little something to eat, said the good woman. If you please, sir, might he have it? Yes, he might have it. There's no rule against that. Give it to me when you go and I'll take care he has it. No, but if you please, sir, don't be angry with me, sir. I am his mother, and you had a mother once. If I might only see him eat a little bit, I should go away, so much more satisfied that he was all comfortable. And again the tears of Kit's mother burst forth, and of Barbara's mother, and of little Jacob. As to the baby, it was crowing and laughing with all its might, under the idea, apparently, that the whole scene had been invented and got up for its particular satisfaction. The turnkey looked as if he thought the request a strange one, and rather out of the common way, but nevertheless he laid down his paper, and coming round where Kit's mother stood, took the basket from her, and after inspecting its contents, handed it to Kit and went back to his place. It may be easily conceived that the prisoner had no great appetite, but he sat down on the ground and ate as hard as he could, while at every mortally put into his mouth his mother sobbed and wept afresh, though with a softened grief that bespoke the satisfaction the sight afforded her. While he was thus engaged, Kit made some inquiries about his employers, and whether they had expressed any opinion concerning him. But all he could learn was that Mr. Abel had himself broken the intelligence to his mother with great kindness and delicacy late on the previous night, but had himself expressed no opinion of his innocence or guilt. Kit was on the point of mustering courage to ask Barbara's mother about Barbara when the turnkey who had conducted him reappeared, a second turnkey appeared behind his visitors, and the third turnkey with the newspaper cried, times up, adding in the same breath, now for the next party, and then plunging deep into his newspaper again. Kit was taken off in an instant, with a blessing from his mother and a scream from Little Jacob ringing in his ears. As he was crossing the next yard with the basket in his hand, under the guidance of his former conductor, another officer called to them to stop, and came up with a pint pot of porter in his hand. This is Christopher Knabbles, isn't it, at coming last night for felony? He said the man. His comrade replied that this was the chicken in question. Then here's your beer, said the other man to Christopher. What are you looking at? There aren't a discharge in it. I beg your pardon, said Kit, who sent it to me? Why, your friend, replied the man, thought to have it every day, he says, and so you will, if he pays for it. My friend, repeated Kit, you're all abroad seemingly, returned the other man. There's his letter. Tie-cold. Kit took it, and when he was locked up again, read as follows. Drink of this cup. You'll find there's a spell in its every drop against the ills of mortality. Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Helen. Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality. Barclay and Coase. If they ever send it in a flat state, complain to the Governor. Yours, R. S. R. S. Said Kit, after some consideration. It must be Mr. Richard Swivler. Well, he's very kind of him, and I thank him utterly. End of Chapter 61. Chapter 62 of the Old Curiosity Shop. This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Mill Nicholson. The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens. Chapter 62. A faint light, twinkling from the window of the counting-house on Quilp's Wharf, and looking inflamed and red through the night fog, as though it suffered from it like an eye. Forewarned Mr. Samson Brass, as he approached the wooden cabin with a cautious step, at the excellent proprietor his esteemed client was inside, and probably waiting, with his accustomed patience and sweetness of temper, the fulfilment of the appointment which now brought Mr. Brass within his fair domain. The treacherous place to pick one's steps in of a dark night, muttered Samson, as he stumbled for the twentieth time over some stray lumber and limped in pain. I believe that boy strews the ground differently every day, on purpose to bruise and maim one, unless his master does it with his own hands, which is more than likely. I hate to come to this place without Sally. She is more protection than a dozen men. As he paid this compliment to the merit of the absent charmer, Mr. Brass came to a halt, looking doubtfully towards the light and over his shoulder. What's he about, I wonder, murmured the lawyer, standing on tiptoe, and endeavouring to obtain a glimpse of what was passing inside, which at that distance was impossible. Drinking, I suppose, making himself more fiery and furious, and heating his malice and mischievousness till they boil. I'm always afraid to come here by myself when his account a pretty large one. I believe he'd mind throttling me and dropping me softly into the river, when the tide was at its strongest, any more than he'd mind killing a rat. Indeed, I don't know whether he wouldn't consider it a pleasant joke. Ark! No, he's singing. Mr. Quillpe was certainly entertaining himself with vocal exercise, but it was rather a kind of chant than a song, being a monotonous repetition of one sentence in a very rapid manner, with the long stress upon the last word, which he swelled into a dismal roar. Nor did the burden of this performance bear any reference to love, or war, or wine, or loyalty, or any other—the standard topics of song—but to a subject not often set to music, or generally known in ballads—the words being these. The worthy magistrate, after remarking that the prisoner would find some difficulty in persuading a jury to believe his tale, committed him to take his trial at the approaching sessions, and directed the customary recognizances to be entered into for the prosecution. Every time he came to this concluding word, and had exhausted all possible stress upon it, Quillpe burst into a shriek of laughter, and began again. He's dreadfully imprudent! muttered brass, after he'd listened to two or three repetitions of the chant. Horribly imprudent! I wish he was dumb! I wish he was deaf! I wish he was blind! Hang him! cried brass, as the chant began again. I wish he was dead! Giving utterance to these friendly aspirations and behalf of his client, Mr. Sampson composed his face into its usual state of smoothness, and waiting until the shriek came again, and was dying away, went up to the wooden house, and knocked at the door. Come in! cried the dwarf. How do you do tonight, sir? said Sampson, peeping in. How do you do, sir? Oh, dear me, how very whimsical, amazingly whimsical, to be sure. Come in, you fool! returned the dwarf, and don't stand there shaking your head and showing your teeth. Come in, you false witness, you perjurer, you subordinate of evidence. Come in! He has the richest humour! cried brass, shutting the door behind him. The most amazing vein of comicality. But isn't it rather injudicious, sir? What! demanded Quillp. What! Judas! Judas! cried brass, he has such extraordinary spirits, his humour is so extremely playful. Judas! Oh, yes, dear me, how very good! All this time, Sampson was rubbing his hands and staring, with ludicrous surprise and dismay, at a great, goggle-eyed, blunt-nosed figurehead of some old ship, which was reared up against the wall in a corner near the stove, looking like a goblin or hideous idol whom the dwarf worshipped. A mass of timber on his head, carved into the dim and distant semblance of a cocked hat, together with a representation of a star on the left breast and epilates on the shoulders, denoted that it was intended for the effigy of some famous admiral. But without those helps any observer might have supposed it the authentic portrait of a distinguished merman or great sea-monster. Being originally much too large for the apartment, which was now employed to decorate, it had been so in short offered the waste. Even in this state it reached from floor to ceiling, and thrusting itself forward with that excessively wide-awake aspect and air of somewhat obtrusive politeness by which figureheads are usually characterised, seem to reduce everything else to mere pygmy proportions. "'Do you know it?' said the dwarf, watching Samson's eyes. "'Do you see the likeness?' "'A,' said Brass, holding his head on one side and throwing it a little back, as connoisseurs do. "'Now I look at it again. I fancy I see a—' Yes, there certainly is something in the smile that reminds me of—and yet upon my word I—' Now, the fact was, that Samson, having never seen anything in the smallest degree resembling this substantial phantom, was much perplexed, being uncertain whether Mr. Quillp considered it like himself, and had therefore bought it for a family portrait, or whether he was pleased to consider it as the likeness of some enemy. It was not very long in doubt. For while he was surveying it with that knowing look which people assume when they are contemplating for the first time portraits which they ought to recognise but don't, the dwarf threw down the newspaper from which he had been chanting the words already quoted, and seizing a rusty iron bar which he used in lieu of poker, dealt the figure such a stroke on the nose that it rocked again. "'Is it like Kit? Is it his picture, his image, his very self?' cried the dwarf, aiming a shower of blows at the insensible countenance, and covering it with deep dimples. "'Is it the exact model and counterpart of the dog? Is it? Is it? Is it?' And with every repetition of the question he battered the great image, until the perspiration streamed down his face with the violence of the exercise. Although this might have been a very comical thing to look at from a secure gallery, as a bullfight is found to be a comfortable spectacle by those who are not in the arena, and a house on fire is better than a play to people who don't live near it, there was something in the earnestness of Mr. Quilp's manner which made his legal advisor feel that the counting-house was a little too small and a deal too lonely for the complete enjoyment of these humours. Therefore he stood as far off as he could, while the dwarf was thus engaged, whimpering out but feeble applause, and when Quilp left off and sat down again from pure exhaustion, approached with more obsequiousness than ever. "'Excellent, indeed!' cried Bross. "'Oh, very good, sir. You know,' said Samson, looking round as if at appeal to the bruised animal. "'He's, er, quite a remarkable man. Quite!' "'Stay down,' said the dwarf. "'I bought the dog yesterday. I've been screwing gimlet into him, and sticking forks in his eyes, and cutting my name on him. I mean to burn him at last.' He cried Bross. "'Extremely entertaining, indeed.' "'Come here,' said Quilp, beckoning him to draw near. "'What's injudicious, eh?' "'Oh, nothing, sir. Nothing scarcely worth mentioning, sir. But I thought that song, admirably humorous in itself, you know, was, er, perhaps so rather...' "'Yes,' said Quilp. "'Rather what?' "'Just bordering, or as one may say, remotely verging, upon the confines of injudiciousness, perhaps, sir.' Returned Bross, looking timidly at the dwarf's cunning eyes, which returned towards the fire, and reflected its red light. "'Why?' inquired Quilp, without looking up. "'Why, you know, sir?' Returned Bross, venturing to be more familiar, the fact is, er, that any allusion to these little combinedings together, of friends, for objects in themselves extremely lordable, but which the law-terms conspiracies, ah, you take me, sir, best kept snug, and among friends, you know.' "'Eh?' said Quilp, looking up at the perfectly vacant countenance. "'What do you mean?' "'Cortious, er, exceedingly cautious, very right and proper.' Cried Bross, nodding his head. "'Mum, sir, even here my meanings are exactly.' "'Your meaning exactly, you brazen scarecrow. What your meaning?' retorted Quilp. "'Why do you talk to me of combining together? Do I combine? Do I know anything about your combinedings?' "'Oh, no, no, sir, certainly not. Not, er, by any means,' returned Bross. "'If you so wink and nod at me,' said the dwarf, looking about him as if for his poker, I'll spoil the expression of your monkey's face, I will.' "'Don't put yourself out of the way, I beg, sir,' rejoined Bross, checking himself with great alacrity. "'You're quite right, sir, quite right. I shouldn't have mentioned the subject, sir. It's much better not to. You're quite right, sir. Let us change it, if you please.' "'You're asking, sir,' Sally told me, about our lodger. "'He has not returned, sir.' "'Now,' said Quilp, heating some rum in a little saucepan, and watching it to rent it spoiling over.' "'Why not?' "'Why, sir,' returned Bross. "'He—dear me, Mr. Quilp, sir.' "'What's the matter?' said the dwarf, stopping his hand in the act of carrying the saucepan to his mouth. "'You have forgotten the water, sir,' said Bross. "'And—excuse me, sir, but it's burning hot.' "'Daining no other than a practical answer to this remonstrance, Mr. Quilp raised the hot saucepan to his lips, and deliberately drank off all the spirit it contained, which might have been in quantity about half a pint, and had been for a moment before, when he took it off the fire, bubbling and hissing fiercely. Having swallowed this gentle stimulant, and shaken his fist at the admiral, he bade Mr. Bross proceed. "'That, first,' said Quilp, as a custom grin, "'have a drop yourself, a nice drop, a good warm, fiery drop.' "'Why, sir,' replied Bross, "'if there was such a thing as a mouthful of water that could be got without trouble?' "'There's no such thing to be had here,' cried the dwarf. "'Water for lawyers. Melted lead and brimstone, you mean. Nice hot blistering pitch and tar. That's a thing for them, eh, Bross, eh?' laughed Mr. Bross. "'Oh, very biting, and yet it's like being tickled. There's a pleasure in it, too, sir.' "'Drink that,' said the dwarf, who had by this time heated some more. "'Toss it off. Don't leave any heel-tap, scorch your throat, and be happy.' The wretched Samson took a few short sips of the liquor, which immediately distilled itself into burning tears. In the night-form came rolling down his cheeks into the pipkin again, turning the colour of his face and eyelids to a deep red, and giving rise to a violent fit of coughing, in the midst of which he was still heard to declare with the constancy of a martyr that it was beautiful indeed, while he was yet in unspeakable agonies, the dwarf renewed their conversation. "'Their larger,' said Quillp. "'What about him?' "'He is still, sir,' returned Bross, with intervals of coughing, stopping with the garland family. "'He has only been home once, sir, since the day of the examination of that culprit. He informed Mr. Richard, sir, that he couldn't bear the house after what had taken place, that he was wretched in it, and that he loitered upon himself as being in a certain kind of way the cause of the occurrence. "'Very excellent lodger, sir. I hope we may not lose him.' "'Yeah,' cried the dwarf, "'never thinking of anybody but yourself. Why don't you retrench, then? Scrape up, hoard, economise, eh?' "'Why, sir,' replied Bross, "'upon my word, I think Sarah's as good an economiser as any going. I do indeed, Mr. Quillp.' "'Mice in your clay, wet the other eye, drink, man,' cried the dwarf. "'You took a clerk to oblige me.' "'Delighted, sir. I'm sure at any time,' replied Samson. "'Yes, sir, I did.' "'Then now you may discharge him,' said Quillp. "'There's a means of retrenchment for you at once.' "'Discharge, Mr. Richard, sir,' cried Bross. "'Have you more than one clerk, you parrot, that you ask the question?' "'Yes.' "'Upon my word, sir,' said Bross, "'I wasn't prepared for this.' "'How could you be?' sneered the dwarf. "'When I wasn't? How often am I to tell you that I brought him to you, that I might always have my eye on him, and know where he was, and that I had a plot, a scheme, a little quiet piece of enjoyment of foot, which the very cream and essence was. This old man and grandchild, who have sunk underground, I think, should be, while he and his precious friend believe them rich in reality, as poor as frozen rats.' "'I quite understood that, sir,' rejoined Bross, thoroughly.' "'Well, sir,' retorted Quillp, "'and do you understand now, that they're not poor, and they can't be, if they have such men as your lodge you're searching for them, and scouring the country far and wide?' "'Of course I do, sir,' said Samson. "'Of course you do,' retorted the dwarf, viciously snapping at his words. "'Of course do you understand, then, that it's no matter what comes of this fellow. "'Of course do you understand that, for any other purpose, he's no man for me, nor for you.' "'I have frequently said to Sarah, sir,' returned Bross, that he was of no use at all in the business. You can't put any confidence in him, sir. If you'll believe me, I found that fellow in the commonest little matters of the office that had been trusted to him, blurting out the truth, though expressly cautioned. The aggravation of that chap, sir, has exceeded anything you can imagine. It has indeed. Nothing but the respect and obligation I owe to you, sir.' As it was plain that Samson was bent on a complimentary harangue, unless he received a timely interruption, Mr. Culp politely tapped him on the crown of his head with a little saucepan, and requested that he would be so obliging as to hold his peace. "'Practical, sir. Practical,' said Bross, rubbing the place and smiling, but still extremely pleasant immensely. So, "'Harken to me, will you,' returned Culp, or I'll be a little more pleasant presently. There's no chance of his comrade and friend returning. The scamp has been obliged to fly, as I learn, for some navery, and has found his way abroad. Let him rot there.' "'Certainly, sir. Quite proper, forcible,' cried Bross, glancing at the admiral again, as if he made a third in company extremely forcible. "'I hate him,' said Culp, between his teeth, and have always hated him, for family reasons. Besides, he was an intractable ruffian, otherwise he would have been of use. This fellow is pigeon-hearted and light-headed. I don't want him any longer. Let him hang or drown. Starve, go to the devil.' "'By all means, sir,' returned Bross. "'When would you wish him, sir, to make that little excursion?' "'When this trial's over,' said Culp. "'As soon as that ended, send him about his business.' "'It shall be done, sir,' returned Bross. "'By all means. It will be rather a blow to Sarah, sir. But she has all her feelings under control.' "'Ah, Mr. Culp, I often think, sir, if it had only pleased Providence to bring you and Sarah together in earlier life, what blessed results would have flowed from such a union?' "'You never saw, dear father, sir?' "'A charming gentleman. Sarah was his pride and joy, sir. He would have closed his eyes in bliss, would Foxy, Mr. Culp, if he could have found her such a partner. You esteem her, sir.' "'I love her,' croaked the dwarf. "'You're very good, sir,' returned Bross. "'I'm sure. Is there any other order, sir, that I can take a note of, besides this little matter of Richard?' "'None,' replied the dwarf, seizing the saucepan. "'Let us drink the lovely Sarah.' "'If we could do it in something, sir, that wasn't quite boiling,' suggested Bross humbly. "'Perhaps it would be better. I think it will be more agreeable to Sarah's feelings, when she comes to hear from me of the honour you have done her, if she learns it was in liquor, rather cooler than the last, sir.' "'But to these remonstrances, Mr. Culp turned a deaf ear. Samson Bross, who was by this time anything but sober, being compelled to take further draughts of the same strong bowl, found that instead of it all contributing to his recovery, they had the novel effect of making the counting-house spin round and round with extreme velocity, and causing the floor and ceiling to heave in a very distressing manner. After a brief stupor, he awoke to a consciousness of being partly under the table and partly under the grate. This position not being the most comfortable one he could have chosen for himself, he managed to stagger to his feet, and, holding on by the admiral, looked round for his host. Mr. Bross's first impression was that his host was gone and had left him there alone, perhaps locked him in for the night. A strong smell of tobacco, however, suggested a new train of ideas. He looked upward, and saw that the dwarf was smoking in his hammock. Good-bye, sir, cried Bross faintly. Good-bye, sir. Won't you stop all night? said the dwarf, peeping out. Do stop all night. I couldn't indeed, sir, replied Bross, who was almost dead from nausea and the closeness of the room. If you'd have the goodness to show me a light, so that I may see my way across the yard, sir. Quilp was out in an instant, not with his legs first, or his head first, or his arms first, but bodily, all together. So be sure, he said, taking up a lantern, which was now the only light in the place. Be careful how you go, my dear friend. Be sure to pick your way among the timber, for all the rusty nails are upwards. There's a dog in the lane. He bit a man last night, and a woman the night before. And last Tuesday he killed a child. But that was in play. Don't go too near him. Which side of the road is he, sir? Asked Bross, in great dismay. He lives on the right hand, said Quilp, but sometimes he hides on the left, ready for a spring. He's uncertain in that respect. Mind you take care of yourself. I'll never forgive you if you don't. There's the light out. Never mind. You know the way. Straight on. Quilp had slightly shaded the light by holding it against his breast, and now stood chuckling and shaking from head to foot in a rapture of delight, as he heard the lawyer stumbling up the yard, and now a man falling heavily down. At length, however, he got quit of the place and was out of hearing. The dwarf shut himself up again, and sprang once more into his hammock. End of Chapter 62 Chapter 63 of the Old Curiosity Shop This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Mill Nicholson The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens Chapter 63 The professional gentleman who had given kit the consolatory piece of information relative to the settlement of his trifle of business at the Old Bailey, and the probability of its being very soon disposed of turned out to be quite correct in his prognostications. In eight days time the sessions commenced. In one day afterwards the grand jury found a true bill against Christopher Nubbles for felony, and in two days from that finding the aforesaid Christopher Nubbles was called upon to plead guilty or not guilty to an indictment for that he, the said Christopher, did feloniously abstract and steal from the dwelling-house and office of one Sampson brass gentleman, one bank note for five pounds issued by the Governor and Company of the Bank of England in contravention of the statutes in that case made and provided and against the piece of our sovereign Lord the King his crown and dignity. To this indictment Christopher Nubbles in a low and trembling voice pleaded not guilty. And here, let those who are in the habit of forming hasty judgments from appearances, and who would have had Christopher, if innocent, speak out very strong and loud, observe that confinement and anxiety will subdue the stoutest hearts. And that to one who has been close shut up, though it be only for ten or eleven days, seeing but stone walls and a very few stony faces, the sudden entrance into a great hall filled with life is rather a disconcerting and startling circumstance. To this it must be added, that life in a wig is to a large class of people much more terrifying and impressive than life with its own head of hair. And if in addition to these considerations they be taken into account Kit's natural emotion on seeing the two Mr. Garland's and the little notary looking on with pale and anxious faces, it will perhaps seem matter of no very great wonder that he should have been rather out of sorts and unable to make himself quite at home. Although he had never seen either of the Mr. Garland's or Mr. Witherton since the time of his arrest, he had been given to understand that they had employed counsel for him. Therefore when one of the gentlemen in Wigs got up and said, I am for the prisoner, my lord, Kit made him a bow. And when another gentleman in a wig got up and said, and I am against him, my lord, Kit trembled very much and bowed to him, too. And didn't he hope in his own heart that his gentleman was a match for the other gentleman, and would make him ashamed of himself in no time? The gentleman who was against him had to speak first. And being in dreadfully good spirits, for he had in the last trial very nearly procured the acquittal of a young gentleman who had had the misfortune to murder his father. He spoke up, you may be sure, telling the jury that if they acquitted this prisoner, they must expect to suffer no less pangs and agonies than he had told the other jury they would certainly undergo if they convicted that prisoner. And when he had told him all about the case, and that he had never known a worse case, he stopped a little while, like a man who had something terrible to tell them, and then said that he understood an attempt would be made by his learned friend, and here he looked sideways at Kit's gentleman, to impeach the testimony of those immaculate witnesses whom he should call before them. But he did hope and trust that his learned friend would have a greater respect and veneration for the character of the prosecutor, than whom, as he well knew, they did not exist and never had existed a more honourable member of that most honourable profession to which he was attached. And then he said, Did the jury know Beavis Marks? And if they did know Beavis Marks, as he trusted for their own character they did, did they know the historical and elevating associations connected with that most remarkable spot? Did they believe that a man like Brass could reside in a place like Beavis Marks, and not be a virtuous and most upright character? And when he had said a great deal to them on this point, he remembered that it was an insult to their understandings, to make any remarks on what they must have felt so strongly without him, and therefore called Simpson Brass into the witness-box straightway. Then up comes Mr. Brass, very brisk and fresh, and having bowed to the judge, like a man who has had the pleasure of seeing him before, and who hopes he has been pretty well since their last meeting, fold his arms and looked at his gentleman as much as to say, Here I am, full of evidence, tap me. And the gentleman does tap him presently, and with great discretion too, drawing off the evidence by little and little, and making it run quite clear and bright in the eyes of all present. Then Kitt's gentleman takes him in hand, but can make nothing of him, and after a great many very long questions and very short answers, Mr. Simpson Brass goes down in glory. To him succeeds Sarah, who in like manner is easy to be managed by Mr. Brass's gentleman, but very obdurate to Kitt's. In short, Kitt's gentleman can get nothing out of her, but a repetition of what she has said before, only a little stronger this time as against his client, and therefore lets her go in some confusion. Then Mr. Brass's gentleman calls Richard Swivler, and Richard Swivler appears accordingly. Now, Mr. Brass's gentleman has it whispered in his ear, that this witness is disposed to be friendly to the prisoner, which to say the truth he is rather glad to hear, as his strength is considered to lie in what is familiarly termed badgering. Wherefore, he begins by requesting the officer to be quite sure that his witness kisses the book, then goes to work at him tooth and nail. Mr. Swivler says this gentleman to Dick, when he had told his tale with evident reluctance and a desire to make the best of it. Prey, sir, where did you dine yesterday? Where did our dines yesterday? Aye, sir, where did you dine yesterday? Was it near here, sir? Oh, to be sure, yes, just over the way. To be sure, yes, just over the way. Repeats Mr. Brass's gentleman with a glance at the court. Alone, sir? I beg your pardon, says Mr. Swivler, who has not caught the question. Alone, sir. Repeats Mr. Brass's gentleman in a voice of thunder. Did you dine alone? Did you treat anybody, sir? Come. Oh, yes, to be sure. Yes, I did, says Mr. Swivler, with a smile. Have the goodness to banish a levity, sir, which is very ill-suited to the place in which you stand. Though perhaps you have reason to be thankful that it's only that place. Says Mr. Brass's gentleman, with a nod of the head insinuating that the dock is Mr. Swivler's legitimate sphere of action. And attend to me. You were waiting about here yesterday, in expectation that this trial was coming on. You dined over the way. You treated somebody. Now, was that somebody brother to the prisoner at the bar? Mr. Swivler is proceeding to explain. Yes, or no, sir? Cries Mr. Brass's gentleman. But will you allow me yes, or no, sir? Yes, but it was yes, it was. Cries the gentleman, taking him up short, and a very pretty witness you are. Down sits Mr. Brass's gentleman. Kids' gentleman, not knowing how the matter really stands, is afraid to pursue the subject. Richard Swivler retires, abashed. Judge, jury, and spectators have visions of his lounging about, with an ill-looking, large, whiskered, disillusioned fellow of six feet high. The reality is, little Jacob, with the calves of his legs exposed to the open air, and himself tied up in a shawl. Nobody knows the truth. Everybody believes a falsehood, and all because of the ingenuity of Mr. Brass's gentleman. Then come the witnesses to character, and here Mr. Brass's gentleman shines again. It turns out that Mr. Garland has had no character with kit, no recommendation of him but from his own mother, and that he was suddenly dismissed by his former master for unknown reasons. Really, Mr. Garland, says Mr. Brass's gentleman, for a person who has arrived at your time of life, you are to say the least of its singularly indiscreet, I think. The jury thinks so too, and find Kit guilty. He has taken off, humbly protesting his innocence. The spectators settle themselves in their places with renewed attention, for there are several female witnesses to be examined in the next case, and it has been rumoured that Mr. Brass's gentleman will make great fun in cross-examining them for the prisoner. Kit's mother, poor woman, is waiting at the great below stairs, accompanied by Barbara's mother, who, honest so, never does anything but cry and hold a baby, and a sad interview ensues. The newspaper-reading turn-key has told him all. He don't think it will be transportation for life because there's time to prove the good character yet, and that is sure to serve him. He wonders what he did it for. He never did it! cries Kit's mother. Well, says the turn-key, I won't contradict you. It's all one now, whether he did it or not. Kit's mother can reach his hand through the bars, and she clasps it. God and those to whom he has given such tenderness only know in how much agony. Kit bids her keep a good heart, and, under pretence of having the children lifted up to kiss him, praise Barbara's mother and a whisper to take her home. Some friend will rise up for us, mother, cried Kit. I'm sure, if not now, before long, my innocence will come out, mother, and I shall be brought back again off your confidence in that. You must teach little Jacob and the baby how all this was, for if they thought I had ever been dishonest, when they'd grew old enough to understand, it would bright my heart to know it, if I was thousands of miles away. Oh! he said now, good gentleman here, who will take care of her? The hand slips out of his, for the poor creature sinks down upon the earth insensible. Richard Swivler comes hastily up, elbows the bystanders out of the way, takes her, after some trouble in one arm, after the manner of theatrical ravishes, and nodding to Kit and commanding Barbara's mother to follow, for he has a coach waiting, bears her swiftly off. Well, Richard took her home, and what astonishing absurdities and the way of quotation from song and poem he perpetrated on the road no man knows. He took her home, and stayed till she was recovered, and having no money to pay the coach, went back in state to Beavis-Marx, bidding the driver, for it was Saturday night, wait at the door while he went in for change. Mr. Richard, sir, said brass cheerfully, good evening. Monstrous as Kit's tale had appeared, at first. Mr. Richard did, that night, half suspect his affable employer of some deep villainy. Perhaps it was but the misery he had just witnessed, which gave his careless nature this impulse. But, be that as it may, it was very strong upon him, and he said in as few words as possible what he wanted. Money? cried brass, taking out his purse. Ha, ha, ha, ha! To be sure, Mr. Richard, to be sure, sir, all Ben must live. You haven't changed for a five-pound note, have you, sir? Now—returned Dick shortly— Oh, said brass, here's the very sum, that saves trouble. You're very welcome, I'm sure, Mr. Richard, sir. Dick, who had by this time reached the door, turned round. You needn't, said brass, trouble yourself to come back any more, sir. Eh? You see, Mr. Richard, said brass, thrusting his hands in his pockets and rocking himself to and fro on his stool. The fact is that a man of your abilities is lost, sir, quite lost in our dry and mouldy line. It's terrible drudgery, shocking. I should say now that the stage or the—or the army, Mr. Richard, or something very superior in the licensed, vigilant way, was the kind of thing that would call out the genius of such a man as you. I hope you look in to see us now, and then Sally, sir, will be delighted, I'm sure. She's extremely sorry to lose you, Mr. Richard, but a sense of her duty to society reconciles her. An amazing creature that, sir. You'll find the money quite correct, I think. There's a cracked window, sir, but I've not made any deduction on that account. Whenever we part with friends, Mr. Richard, let us part liberally. A delightful sentiment, sir. To all these rambling observations, Mr. Swivler answered not one word. But returning for the aquatic jacket, rolled it into a tight round ball, looking steadily at brass meanwhile, as if he had some intention of bowling him down with it. He only took it under his arm, however, and marched out of the office in profound silence. When he had closed the door, he reopened it, stared in again for a few moments with the same portentous gravity, and nodding his head once in a slow and ghostlike manner, vanished. He paid the coachman, and turned his back on beavers' marks, big with great designs for the comforting of Kit's mother and the aid of Kit himself. But the lives of gentlemen devoted to such pleasures as Richard Swivler are extremely precarious. The spiritual excitement of the last fortnight, working upon a system affected in no slight degree by the spirituous excitement of some years, proved a little too much for him. That very night, Mr. Richard was seized with an alarming illness, and in twenty-four hours was stricken with a raging fever. End of Chapter 63.