 49 In which Mrs. Harris, assisted by a teapot, is the cause of a division between friends. Mrs. Gamp's apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, more metaphorically speaking, a robe of state. It was swept and garnished for the reception of a visitor. That visitor was Betsy Prigg. Mrs. Prigg of Bartlemies, or as some said Bartlemies, or as some said Bartlemies. For by all these endearing and familiar appellations had the hospital of St. Bartholomew become a household word among the sisterhood which Betsy Prigg adorned. Mrs. Gamp's apartment was not a spacious one, but to a contented mind a closet is a palace, and the first floor front at Mr. Sweetlepipes may have been in the imagination of Mrs. Gamp a stately pile. If it were not exactly that to restless intellects, it at least comprised as much accommodation as any person, not sanguine to insanity, could have looked for in a room of its dimensions. For only keep the bedstead always in your mind, and you were safe. That was the grand secret. Remembering the bedstead you might even stoop to look under the little round table for anything you had dropped without hurting yourself much against the chest of drawers, or qualifying as a patient of St. Bartholomew by falling into the fire. Chargers were much assisted in their cautious efforts to preserve an unflagging recollection of this piece of furniture by its size, which was great. It was not a turn-up bedstead, nor yet a French bedstead, nor yet a four-post bedstead, but what is poetically called a tent. The sacking wear-of was low and bulgy, in so much that Mrs. Gamp's box would not go under it, but stopped halfway in a manner which, while it did violence to the reason likewise endangered the legs of a stranger. The frame, too, which would have supported the canopy and hangings if there had been any, was ornamented with diverse pippins carved in timber, which on the slightest provocation, and frequently on none at all, came tumbling down, harassing the peaceful guest with inexplicable terrors. The bed itself was decorated with a patchwork quilt of great antiquity, and at the upper end, upon the side nearest to the door, hung a scanty curtain of blue check which prevented the zeffers that were abroad in Kingsgate Street from visiting Mrs. Gamp's head too roughly. Some rusty gowns and other articles of that lady's wardrobe depended from the posts, and these had so adapted themselves by long usage to her figure that more than one impatient husband coming in precipitately, at about the time of twilight, had been for an instant stricken dumb by the supposed discovery that Mrs. Gamp had hanged herself. One gentleman, coming on the usual hasty errand, had said indeed that they looked like guardian angels watching of her in her sleep. But that, as Mrs. Gamp said, was his first, and he never repeated the sentiment, though he often repeated his visit. The chairs in Mrs. Gamp's apartment were extremely large and broad-backed, which was more than a sufficient reason for their being but two in number. They were both elbow-chairs of ancient mahogany, and were chiefly valuable for the slippery nature of their seats which had been originally horsehair, but were now covered with a shiny substance of a bluish tint from which the visitor began to slide away with a dismayed countenance immediately after sitting down. What Mrs. Gamp wanted in chairs she made up in band boxes, of which she had a great collection devoted to the reception of various miscellaneous valuables, which were not, however, as well-protected as the good woman by a pleasant fiction seemed to think. For though every band box had a carefully closed lid, not one among them had a bottom, owing to which cause the property within was merely, as it were, extinguished. The chest of drawers, having been originally made to stand upon the top of another chest, had a dwarfish, elfin look alone, but in regard of its security it had a great advantage over the band boxes. For as all the handles had been long ago pulled off, it was very difficult to get at its contents. This, indeed, was only to be done by one or two devices, either by tilting the whole structure forward until all the drawers fell out together, or by opening them singly with knives like oysters. Mrs. Gamp stored all her household matters in a little cupboard by the fireplace, beginning below the surface, as in nature, with the coals, and mounting gradually upwards to the spirits, which, for motives of delicacy, she kept in a teapot. The chimney piece was ornamented with a small almanac, marked here and there in Mrs. Gamp's own hand with a memorandum of the date at which some lady was expected to fall due. It was also embellished with three profiles, one in colors of Mrs. Gamp herself in early life, one in bronze of a lady in feathers supposed to be Mrs. Harris as she appeared when dressed for a ball, and one in black of Mr. Gamp deceased. The last was a full length in order that the likeness might be rendered more obvious and forcible by the introduction of the wooden leg. A pair of bellows, a pair of patents, a toasting fork, a kettle, a pat boat, a spoon for the administration of medicine to the refractory, and lastly Mrs. Gamp's umbrella, which as something of great price and rarity was displayed with particular ostentation, completed the decorations of the chimney piece and adjacent wall. Towards these objects Mrs. Gamp raised her eyes in satisfaction when she had arranged the teaboard and had concluded her arrangements for the reception of Betsy Prigg, even under the setting forth of two pounds of Newcastle Salmon intensely pickled. There, now dread you, Betsy, don't be long, said Mrs. Gamp, apostrophizing her absent friend, for I can't bear to wait, I do assure you, to whatever place I go I stick to this one mortar. I'm easy pleased, it is but little as I want, but I must have that little of the best, and to the minute when the clock strikes, else we do not part as I could wish, but bear in malice in our art. Her own preparations were of the best, for they comprehended a delicate new loaf, a plate of fresh butter, a basin of fine white sugar, and other arrangements on the same scale. In the snuff, with which she now refreshed herself, was so choice and quality that she took a second pinch. There's the little bell a-ringing now, said Mrs. Gamp, hurrying to the stair-head and looking over. Betsy Prigg might—why, it's that they're disappointing sweetle-pipes, I do believe. Yes, it's me, said the barber, and a faint voice, I've just come in. You're always a-coming in, I think, muttered Mrs. Gamp to herself, except when you are going out. I hate no patience with that, man. Mrs. Gamp, said the barber, I say, Mrs. Gamp. Well, cried Mrs. Gamp impatiently, as she descended the stairs. What is it? Is the Thames a fire and cookin' its own fish, Mr. Sweetle-pipes? Why, what's the man gone and been a-doin' of to himself? He's as white as chalk. She added the latter claws of inquiry when she got downstairs and found him seated in the shaving chair, pale and disconsolate. You recollect, said Powell? You recollect young—not young Wilkins, cried Mrs. Gamp, don't say young Wilkins whatever you do. If young Wilkins' wife is took, it isn't anybody's wife, exclaimed the little barber. Bailey, young Bailey, why, what do you mean to say that shit's been a-doin' of? Retorted Mrs. Gamp sharply, stuffin' nonsense, Mrs. Sweetle-pipes. He hasn't been a-doin' anything, exclaimed poor Powell. Quite desperate. What do you catch me up so short for when you see me put out to that extent that I can hardly speak? He'll never do anything again. He's done for. He's killed. The first time I ever see that boy, said Powell, I charged him too much for a red Powell. I asked him three half-pence for a penny one because it was afraid he'd beat me down. But he didn't. And now he's dead. And if he was to crowd all the steam engines and electric fluids that ever was into this shop and set him every one to work their hardest, they couldn't square the account, though it's only a hay-penny. Mr. Sweetle-pipe turned aside to the towel and wiped his eyes with it. And what a clever boy he was, he said. What a surprising young chap he was, how he talked, and what a deal he knowed. Shaved in this very chair he was, only for fun. It was all his fun. He was full of it. Ah, to think that he'll never be shaved in earnest. The birds might every one have died and welcome, cried the little barber, looking round him at the cages and again applying to the towel. Sooner than I'd have heard this news. How did you ever come to hear it? said Mrs. Gamp, who told you. I went out, returned the little barber, into the city to meet a sporting gent upon the stock exchange that wanted a few slow pigeons to practice at. When I'd done with him, I went to get a little drop of beer, and there I heard everybody are talking about it. It's in the papers. You are in a nice state of confusion, Mr. Sweetle-pipes, you are, said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her head. And my opinion is, as half a dozen free young lively leeches on your temples wouldn't be too much to clear your mind. Which so I tell you, what were they talking on and what was in the papers? All about it, cried the barber. What else do you suppose? Some in his master were upset on a journey, and he was carried to Salisbury, and was breathing his last when the account came away. He never spoke afterwards, not a single word. That's the worst of it to me. But that ain't all. His master can't be found. The other manager of their office in the city, Cripple, David Cripple, has gone off with the money, and is advertised for with a reward upon the walls. Mr. Montague, poor young Bailey's master, what a boy he was, was advertised for too. Some say he's slipped off to join his friend abroad. Some say he mayn't have got away yet. And they're looking for him high and low. Their office is a smash, a swindle altogether. But what's a life assurance office to a life? And what a life young Bailey's was. He was born into a whale, said Mrs. Gamp, with philosophical coolness. And he lived in a whale. And he must take the consequences of such a situation. Don't you hear nothing of Mr. Chuzzlewit and all this? No, said Paul, nothing to speak of. His name wasn't printed as one of the board, though some people say it was just going to be. Some believe he was took in, and some believe he was one of the takers in. But however that may be, they can't prove nothing against him. This morning, he went up of his own accord before the Lord Mayor, or some of them city bigwigs, and complained that he'd been swindled, and that these two persons had gone off and cheated him, and that he had just found out that Montague's name wasn't even Montague, but something else. And they do say that he looked like death, owing to his losses. But Lord, forgive me, cried the barber, coming back again to the subject of his individual grief. What's his looks to me? He might have died and welcomed fifty times, and not been such a loss as Bailey. At this juncture the little bell rang, and the deep voice of Mrs. Prigg struck into the conversation. Oh, you were talking about it, are you? Well, I hope you've got it over, for I ain't interested in it myself. My precious Betsy said, Mrs. Gamp, how late you are! The worthy Mrs. Prigg replied with some asperity, that if perverse people went off dead when they was least expected and weren't no fault of her, and further that it was quite aggravation enough to be made late when one was dropping for one's tea without hearing on it again. Mrs. Gamp, deriving from this exhibition of repartez some clue to the state of Mrs. Prigg's feelings, instantly conducted her upstairs, deeming that the sight of Pickled Salmon might work a softening change. But Betsy Prigg expected Pickled Salmon. It was obvious that she did, for her first words after glancing at the table were, I know she wouldn't have a cow-cumber. Mrs. Gamp changed color and sat down upon the bedstead. Lord, bless you, Betsy Prigg, your words is true. I quite forgot it. Mrs. Prigg, looking steadfastly at her friend, put her hand in her pocket, and with an air of surly triumph drew forth, either the oldest of lettuces or youngest of cabbages, but at any rate a green vegetable of an expansive nature and of such magnificent proportions that she was obliged to shut it up like an umbrella before she could pull it out. She also produced a handful of mustard and crest, a trifle of the herb called dandelion, three bunches of radishes, an onion rather larger than an average turnip, three substantial slices of beetroot, and a short prong or antler of celery. The whole of this garden stuff, having been publicly exhibited but a short time before, as a two-penny salad and purchased by Mrs. Prigg, unconditioned that the vendor could get it all into her pocket, which had been happily accomplished in High Holborn to the breathless interest of a hackney-coach stand. And she laid so little stress on the surprising forethought that she did not even smile but returning her pocket into its accustomed sphere merely recommended that these productions of nature should be sliced up for immediate consumption in plenty of vinegar. And don't go a drop in none of your snuff in it, said Mrs. Prigg, in gruel, barley water, apple tea, mutton broth, and that it don't signify. It stimulates a patient, but I don't relish it myself. Why, Betsy Prigg, cried Mrs. Gamp, how can you talk so? Why, ain't your patients, whatever their diseases is, always a-sneezing their weary heads off along of your snuff, said Mrs. Prigg? And what if they are, said Mrs. Gamp? Nothing if they are, said Mrs. Prigg, but don't deny it, Sarah. Who denies of it, Mrs. Gamp inquired? Mrs. Prigg returned no answer. Who denies of it, Betsy? Mrs. Gamp inquired again. Then Mrs. Gamp, by reversing the question, imparted a deeper and more awful character of solemnity to the same. Betsy? Who denies of it? It was the nearest possible approach to a very decided difference of opinion between these ladies. But Mrs. Prigg's impatience for the meal, being greater at the moment than her impatience of contradiction, she replied for the present, Nobody, if you don't, Sarah, and prepared herself for tea, for a quarrel can be taken up at any time, but a limited quantity of salmon cannot. Her toilette was simple. She had merely to chuck her bonnet and shawl upon the bed, give her hair two pulls, one upon the right side and one upon the left, as if she were ringing a couple of bells, and all was done. The tea was already made. Mrs. Gamp was not long over the salad, and they were soon at the height of their repast. The temper of both parties was improved for the time being by the enjoyments of the table. When the meal came to a termination, which it was pretty long in doing, and Mrs. Gamp, having cleared away, produced the teapot from the top shelf simultaneously with a couple of wineglasses, they were quite amiable. Betsy? said Mrs. Gamp, filling her own glass and passing the teapot. I will now propose a toast. My frequent partner, Betsy Prigg. Which, altering the name to Sarah Gamp, I drink, said Mrs. Prigg, with love and tenderness. From this moment symptoms of inflammation began to lurk in the nose of each lady, and perhaps notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary, in the temper also. Now Sarah, said Mrs. Prigg, joining business with pleasure, what is this case in which she wants me? Mrs. Gamp, betraying in her face some intention of returning an evasive answer, Betsy added. Is it Mrs. Harris? No, Betsy Prigg, it ain't, was Mrs. Gamp's reply. Well, said Mrs. Prigg, with a short laugh, I'm glad of that at any rate. Why should you be glad of that, Betsy? Mrs. Gamp retorted warmly. She is unbeknownst to you, except by hearsay. Why should you be glad? If you have anything to say, contrary to the character of Mrs. Harris, which, well I know, is behind her back, before her face or anywhere, is not to be impeached out with it, Betsy. I have known that sweetest and best of women, said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her head and shedding tears, ever since for her first, which Mr. Harris, who was dreadful timid, went and stopped his ears in an empty dog kennel and never took his hands away or come out once till he was showed the baby. When being took with fits, the doctor collared him and laid him on his back upon the airy stones, and she was told to ease her mind, his owls was organs. And I have known her, Betsy Prigg, when he has heard her feel an art by sayin' of his night, that it was one too many, if not two, while that dear innocent was coolin' in his face, which thrive it did, though, Bandy. But I've never noticed you had occasion to be glad, Betsy, on account of Mrs. Harris not requiring you. Requires she never will, depend upon it, for her constant words in sickness is and will be sent for sary. During this touching address, Mrs. Prigg adroitly feigning to be the victim of that absence of mind which has its origin and excessive attention to one topic, helped herself from the teapot without appearing to observe it. Mrs. Gamp observed it, however, and came to a premature close in consequence. Well, it ain't her, it seems, said Mrs. Prigg coldly. Who is it then? You have heard me mention, Betsy, Mrs. Gamp replied, after glancing in an expressive and marked manner at the teapot. A person as I took care on at the time as you and me was pardoners off and on in that their fever at the bowl. Old snuffy, Mrs. Prigg observed. Sarah Gamp looked at her with an eye of fire, for she saw in this mistake of Mrs. Prigg another willful and malignant stab at that same weakness or custom of hers, an ungenerous allusion to which, on the part of Betsy, had first disturbed their harmony that evening. And she saw it still more clearly when politely but firmly correcting that lady by the distinct enunciation of the word chuffy, Mrs. Prigg received correction with a diabolical laugh. The best among us have their feelings, and it must be conceited of Mrs. Prigg that if there were a blemish in the goodness of her disposition, it was a habit she had of not bestowing all its sharpened acid properties upon her patients, as a thoroughly amiable woman would have done, but of keeping a considerable remainder for the service of her friends. Lily-pickled salmon and lettuces chopped up in vinegar may, as beans possessing some acidity of their own, have encouraged and increased as failing in Mrs. Prigg, and every application to the teapot certainly did, for it was often remarked of her by her friends that she was most contradictory when most elevated. It is certain that her countenance became about this time derisive and defiant, and that she sat with her arms folded and one eye shut up in a somewhat offensive, because obtrusively intelligent manner. Mrs. Gamp, observing this, felt it the more necessary that Mrs. Prigg should know her place and be made sensible of her exact station in society as well as of her obligations to herself. She therefore assumed an air of greater patronage and importance, as she went on to answer Mrs. Prigg a little more in detail. Mr. Chuffy, Betsy, said Mrs. Gamp, is weak in his mind. Excuse me if I make remark that he may neither be so weak as people thinks, nor people may not think he is so weak as they pretends, and what I know's I know's, and what you don't, you don't. So do not ask me, Betsy. But Mr. Chuffy's friends has made proposals for his being took care on, and has said to me, Mrs. Gamp, will you undertake it? We couldn't think, they says, of trusting him to nobody but you, for, Sarah, you are gold as has passed the fernage. Will you undertake it at your own price, day and night, and by your own self? No, I says I will not, do not reckon on it. There is, I says, but one creature in the world as I would undertake on such terms, and her name is Harris. But, I says, I am acquainted with a friend whose name is Betsy Prigg that I can recommend and will assist me. Betsy, I says, is always to be trusted under me, and will be guided as I could desire. Here Mrs. Prigg, without any abatement of her offensive manner, again counterfeited abstraction of mind and stretched out her hand to the teapot. It was more than Mrs. Gamp could bear. She stopped the hand of Mrs. Prigg with her own and said, with great feeling, No, Betsy, drink fair whatever you do. Mrs. Prigg thus baffled, threw herself back in her chair, and closing the same eye more emphatically, and folding her arms tighter, suffered her head to roll slowly from side to side while she surveyed her friend with a contemptuous smile. Mrs. Gamp resumed. Mrs. Harris, Betsy, bother Mrs. Harris, said Betsy Prigg. Mrs. Gamp looked at her with amazement, incredulity, and indignation. When Mrs. Prigg, shutting her eyes still closer and folding her arms still tighter, uttered these memorable and tremendous words. I don't believe there's no such a person. After the utterance of which expressions, she leaned forward and snapped her fingers once, twice, thrice, each time nearer to the face of Mrs. Gamp, and then rose to put on her bonnet as one who felt that there was now a gulf between them which nothing could ever bridge across. The shock of this blow was so violent and sudden that Mrs. Gamp sat staring at nothing with uplifted eyes, and her mouth open as if she were gasping for breath until Betsy Prigg had put on her bonnet and her shawl and was gathering the latter about her throat. Then Mrs. Gamp rose, morally and physically rose, and denounced her. What! said Mrs. Gamp, you beige creedor! Have I known Mrs. Harris five and thirty years to be told at last that there ain't no such a person living? Have I stood her friend in all her troubles great and small for it to come at last to such an end as this, with her own sweet picture hanging up before you all the time to shame your braggian words, but well you may not believe there's no such a creedor, for she wouldn't demean herself to look at you. And often, as she said, when I have made mention of your name, which to my sinful sorrow I have done, what, Sarri Gamp, debate yourself to her, go along with you. I'm a-going, ma'am, ain't I? said Mrs. Prigg, stopping, as she said it. You had better, ma'am, said Mrs. Gamp. Do you know who you're talking to, ma'am, inquired her visitor? Appariantly, said Mrs. Gamp, surveying her with scorn from head to foot, to Betsy Prigg. Appariantly so, I know her, no one better. Go along with you. And you was a-going to take me under you, cried Mrs. Prigg, surveying Mrs. Gamp from head to foot in her turn. You was, was you? Oh, how kind! Why, do take your imprints, said Mrs. Prigg, with a rapid change from banter to ferocity. What do you mean? Go along with you, said Mrs. Gamp, I blushed for you. You had better blush a little for yourself while you are about it, said Mrs. Prigg, you and your chuffies. What, the poor old creed isn't mad enough, isn't he? Aha! He'd very soon be mad enough if you had anything to do with him, said Mrs. Gamp. And that's what I was wanted for, is it, cried Mrs. Prigg triumphantly? Yes. But you'll find yourself deceived, I won't go near him. We shall see how you get on without me. I won't have nothing to do with him. You never spoke a truer word than that, said Mrs. Gamp, go along with you. She was prevented from witnessing the actual retirement of Mrs. Prigg from the room, notwithstanding the great desire she had expressed to behold it, by that lady in her angry withdrawal, coming into contact with the bedstead, and bringing down the previously mentioned pippants. Three or four of which came rattling on the head of Mrs. Gamp so smartly that when she recovered from this wooden shower-bath, Mrs. Prigg was gone. She had the satisfaction, however, of hearing the deep voice of Betsy proclaiming her injuries and her determination to have nothing to do with Mr. Chuffy down the stairs and along the passage and even out in Kingsgate Street. Likewise of seeing, in her own apartment, in the place of Mrs. Prigg, Mr. Sweetlepipe and two gentlemen. Why, bless my life, exclaimed the little barber, what's amiss? The noise you ladies have been making, Mrs. Gamp, why these two gentlemen have been standing on the stairs outside the door nearly all the time, trying to make you hear while you are pelting away hammer and tongs. It'll be the death of the little bullfinch in the shop that draws his own water. In his fright, he's been restraining himself all to bits, drawing more water than he could drink in a 12 month. He must have thought it was fire. Mrs. Gamp had, in the meanwhile, sunk into her chair, from wence, turning up her overflowing eyes and clasping her hands, she delivered the following lamentation. Oh, Mr. Sweetlepipes, which Mr. Westlock also, if my eyes did not deceive, and a friend not having the pleasure of being benone, what I have took from Betsy Prigg this blessed night, no more deal, creed her nose, if she had abudged me, being in liquor, which I thought I smelt her when she came, but could not so believe, not being used myself. Mrs. Gamp, by the way, was pretty far gone, and the fragrance of the teapot was strong in the room. I could have bore it with a thankful art, but the words she spoke of Mrs. Harris, lambs could not forgive. No, Betsy, said Mrs. Gamp, in a violent burst of feeling, nor worms forget. The little barber scratched his head and shook it, and looked at the teapot, and gradually got out of the room. John Westlock, taking a chair, sat down on one side of Mrs. Gamp, Martin, taking the foot of the bed, supported her on the other. You wonder what we want, I daresay, observed John. I'll tell you presently when you have recovered. It's not pressing for a few minutes or so. How do you find yourself? Better? Mrs. Gamp shed more tears, shook her head, and feebly pronounced Mrs. Harris's name. Have a little—John was at a loss, what to call it. Tea, suggested Martin. It ain't tea, said Mrs. Gamp. Physic of some sort, I suppose, cried John. Have a little. Mrs. Gamp was prevailed upon to take a glassful. On condition, she passionately observed, as Betsy never has another stroke of work for me. Certainly not, said John, she shall never help to nurse me. To think, said Mrs. Gamp, as she should ever have helped to nust that friend of yours, and been so near of hearing things that, ah, John looked at Martin. Yes, he said, that was a narrow escape, Mrs. Gamp. Narrow indeed, she returned, it was only my having the night, and hearing of him in his wanderings, and her the day that saved it. What would she have said and done, if she had knowed what I know, that profigious wretch, yet, oh good gracious me, cried Mrs. Gamp, trampling on the floor in the absence of Mrs. Prig, that I should hear from that same woman's lips what I have heard her speak of Mrs. Harris. Never mind, said John, you know it is not true. Isn't true, cried Mrs. Gamp, true? Don't I know, as that dear woman is expecting of me at this minute, Mr. Westlock, and is a looking out of window down the street, with little Tommy Harris in her arms, has called me his own gammy, and truly calls for blessed the model little legs of that their precious child, like Canterbury Braun in his own, your father says, which so they are. His own I have been, ever since I found him, Mr. Westlock, with his small red-worsted shoe, a gurgling in its throat, where he had put it in his play, a chick, while they was leaving of him on the floor, looking for it through the house, and he him a-choken, sweetly in the parlor. Oh, Betsy, Prig, what wickedness you've showed this night, but never shall you darken Sarah's doors again, you twining serpient. You were always so kind to her, too, said John, consolingly. That's the cutting part. That's where it hurts me, Mr. Westlock. Mrs. Gamp replied, holding out her glass unconsciously while Martin filled it. Chosen to help you with Mr. Lusom, said John, chosen to help you with Mr. Chuffy. Chose once, but chose no more, cried Mrs. Gamp. No partnership with Betsy Prig again, sir. No, no, said John, that would never do. I don't know as it ever would have done, sir, Mrs. Gamp replied, with a solemnity peculiar to a certain stage of intoxication. Now that the marks, by which Mrs. Gamp is supposed to have meant mask, is off that creeders face, I do not think it ever would have done. There are reagents in families for keeping things a secret, Mr. Westlock, and have it only them about as you knows you can repogen. Who could repogen, Betsy Prig, are to her words of Mrs. Harris sitting in that chair for my eyes? Quite true, said John, quite. I hope you have time to find another assistant, Mrs. Gamp. Between her indignation and the teapot, her powers of comprehending what was said to her began to fail. She looked at John with cheerful eyes and murmuring the well-remembered name which Mrs. Prig had challenged, as if it were a talisman against all earthly sorrows seemed to wander in her mind. I hope, repeated John, that you have time to find another assistant. Which short it is indeed, cried Mrs. Gamp, turning up her languid eyes and clasping Mr. Westlock's wrist with matronly affection. Tomorrow evening, sir, I wait upon his friends. Mr. Chuzzle would have pined it from nine to 10. From nine to 10, said John, with a significant glance at Martin, and then Mr. Chuffy retires into safekeeping, does he? He needs to be kept safe, I do assure you, Mrs. Gamp replied with a mysterious air. Other people besides me has had a happy deliverance from Betsy Prig. I little knowed that woman. She'd have let it out. Let him out, do you mean, said John. Do I, retorted Mrs. Gamp, oh. The severely ironical character of this reply was strengthened by a very slow nod and a still slower drawing down of the corners of Mrs. Gamp's mouth. She added, with extreme statelyness of manner after indulging in a short dose. But I am a keepin' of you gentlemen, and time is precious. Mingling with that delusion of the teapot, which inspired her with the belief that they wanted her to go somewhere immediately, a shrewd avoidance of any further reference to the topics into which she had lately strayed, Mrs. Gamp rose, and putting away the teapot in its accustomed place, and locking the cupboard with much gravity, proceeded to attire herself for a professional visit. This preparation was easily made as it required nothing more than the snuffy black bonnet, the snuffy black shawl, the patents, and the indispensable umbrella, without which neither a lying in nor a laying out could by any possibility be attempted. When Mrs. Gamp had invested herself with these appendages, she returned to her chair and sitting down again declared herself quite ready. It's an happiness to know as one can benefit the poor sweet creed, she observed, I'm sure, it isn't all as can the tortures Betsy Priggan flicks as frightful. Closing her eyes as she made this remark in the acuteness of her commiseration for Betsy's patients, she forgot to open them again until she dropped a patent. Her nap was also broken at intervals like the fabled slumbers of fryer bacon by the dropping of the other patent and of the umbrella. But when she had got rid of those encumbrances, her sleep was peaceful. The two young men looked at each other ludicrously enough and Martin stifling his disposition to laugh whispered in John Westlock's ear, what shall we do now? Stay here, he replied. Mrs. Gamp was heard to murmur Mrs. Harris in her sleep. Rely upon it, whispered John looking cautiously towards her, that you shall question this old clerk though you go as Mrs. Harris herself. We know quite enough to carry her our own way now at all events. Thanks to this quarrel, which confirms the old saying that when rogues fall out, honest people get what they want. Let Jonas Cheslowit look to himself and let her sleep as long as she likes. We shall gain our end in good time. End of chapter 49. Chapter 50 of Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslowit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslowit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 50 surprises Tom Pinch very much and shows how certain confidence has passed between him and his sister. It was the next evening and Tom and his sister were sitting together before tea, talking in their usual quiet way about a great many things, but not at all about Lusam's story or anything connected with it. For John Westlock, really John, for so young a man was one of the most considerate fellows in the world, had particularly advised Tom not to mention it to his sister just yet, in case it should disquiet her. And I wouldn't, Tom, he said, with a little hesitation. I wouldn't have a shadow on her happy face or an uneasy thought in her gentle heart for all the wealth and honors of the universe. Really John was uncommonly kind, extraordinarily kind. If he had been her father, Tom said, he could not have taken a greater interest in her. But although Tom and his sister were extremely conversational, they were less lively and less cheerful than usual. Tom had no idea that this originated with Ruth but took it for granted that he was rather dull himself. In truth he was, for the lightest cloud upon the heaven of her quiet mind, cast its shadow upon Tom. And there was a cloud on little Ruth that evening. Yes, indeed. When Tom was looking in another direction, her bright eyes stealing on towards his face would sparkle still more brightly than their custom was and then grow dim. When Tom was silent looking out upon the summer weather, she would sometimes make a hasty movement as if she were about to throw herself upon his neck. Then check the impulse. And when he looked round, show a laughing face and speak to him very merrily. When she had anything to give Tom or had any excuse for coming near him, she would flutter about him and lay her bashful hand upon his shoulder and not be willing to withdraw it and would show by all such means that there was something on her heart which in her great love she longed to say to him but had not the courage to utter. So there were sitting she with her work before her but not working and Tom with his book beside him but not reading when Martin knocked at the door. Anticipating who it was, Tom went to open it and he and Martin came back into the room together. Tom looked surprised for an answer to his cordial greeting Martin had hardly spoken a word. Ruth also saw that there was something strange in the manner of their visitor and raised her eyes inquiringly to Tom's face as if she were seeking an explanation there. Tom shook his head and made the same mute appeal to Martin. Martin did not sit down but walked up to the window and stood there looking out. He turned round after a few moments to speak but hastily averted his head again without doing so. What has happened, Martin? Tom anxiously inquired. My dear fellow, what bad news do you bring? Oh, Tom replied, Martin, in a tone of deep reproach. To hear you feign that interest in anything that happens to me hurts me even more than your ungenerous dealing. My ungenerous dealing? Martin, my, Tom could say no more. How could you, Tom? How could you suffer me to thank you so fervently and sincerely for your friendship and not tell me like a man that you had deserted me? Was it true, Tom? Was it honest? Was it worthy of what you used to be, of what I am sure you used to be, to tempt me when you had turned against me into pouring out my heart? Oh, Tom. His tone was one of such strong injury and yet of so much grief for the loss of a friend he had trusted in, it expressed such high-passed love for Tom and so much sorrow and compassion for his supposed unworthiness that Tom, for a moment, put his hand before his face and had no more power of justifying himself than if he had been a monster of deceit and falsehood. I protest as I must die, said Martin, that I grieve over the loss of what I thought you and have no anger in the recollection of my own injuries. It is only at such a time and after such a discovery that we know the full measure of our old regard for the subject of it. I swear, little as I showed it, little as I know I showed it, that when I had the least consideration for you, Tom, I loved you like a brother. Tom was composed by this time and might have been the spirit of truth in a homely dress. It very often wears a homely dress, thank God, when he replied to him. Martin, he said, I don't know what is in your mind or who has abused it or by what extraordinary means. But the means are false. There is no truth whatever in the impression under which you labor. It is a delusion from first to last and I warn you that you will deeply regret the wrong you do me. I can honestly say that I have been true to you and to myself. You will be very sorry for this. Indeed, you will be very sorry for it, Martin. I am sorry, returned Martin, shaking his head. I think I never knew what it was to be sorry in my heart until now. At least, said Tom, if I had always been what you charged me with being now and had never had a place in your regard but had always been despised by you and had always deserved it, you should tell me in what you have found me to be treacherous and on what grounds you proceed. I did not entreat you, therefore, to give me that satisfaction as a favor, Martin, but I ask it of you as a right. My own eyes are my witnesses, returned Martin, am I to believe them? No, said Tom, calmly, not if they accuse me. Your own words, your own manner, pursued Martin, am I to believe them? No, replied Tom, calmly, not if they accuse me. But they never have accused me. Whoever has perverted them to such a purpose has wronged me almost as cruelly. His calmness rather failed him here as you have done. I came here, said Martin, and I appealed to your good sister to hear me. Not to her, interrupted Tom, pray, do not appeal to her. She will never believe you. He drew her arm through his own as he said it. I believe it, Tom. No, no, cried Tom, of course not. I said so, why, what a silly little thing you are. I never meant, said Martin hastily, to appeal to you against your brother. Do not think me so unmanly and unkind. I merely appealed to you to hear my declaration, that I came here for no purpose of reproach. I have not one reproach to vent, but in deep regret. You could not know in what bitterness of regret, unless you knew how often I have thought of Tom, how long in almost hopeless circumstances, I have looked forward to the better estimation of his friendship, and how steadfastly I have believed and trusted in him. Tut, tut, said Tom, stopping her as she was about to speak. He is mistaken. He is deceived. Why should you mind? He is sure to be set right at last. Heaven bless the day that sets me right, cried Martin, if it could ever come. Amen, said Tom, and it will. Martin paused, and then said, in a still milder voice, you have chosen for yourself, Tom, and will be relieved by our parting. It is not an angry one. There is no anger on my side. There is none on mine, said Tom. It is merely what you have brought about and work to bring about. I say again, you have chosen for yourself. You have made the choice that might have been expected in most people situated as you are, but which I did not expect in you. For that, perhaps, I should blame my own judgment more than you. There is wealth and favor worth having on one side, and there is the worthless friendship of an abandoned, struggling fellow on the other. You were free to make your election, and you made it, and the choice was not difficult. But those who have not the courage to resist such temptations should have the courage to avow what they have yielded to them, and I do blame you for this, Tom, that you received me with a show of warmth and courage to be frank and plain-spoken, tempted me to confide in you and profess that you were able to be mine when you had sold yourself to others. I do not believe, said Martin, with emotion. Hear me say it from my heart. I cannot believe, Tom, now that I am standing, face to face with you, that it would have been in your nature to do me any serious harm, even though I had not discovered by chance in whose employment you were. But I should have encumbered you. I should have led you into more double dealing. I should have hesitated your retaining the favor for which you have paid so high a price, bartering away your former self. And it is best for both of us that I have found out what you so much desired to keep secret. Be just, said Tom, who had not removed his mild gaze from Martin's face since the commencement of this last address. Be just, even in your injustice, Martin. You forget you have not yet told me what your accusation is. Why should I, returned to Martin, waving his hand and moving towards the door? You could not know it the better for my dwelling on it, and though it would be really none the worse, it might seem to me to be. No, Tom, bygones shall be bygones between us. I can take leave of you at this moment and in this place in which you are so amiable and so good as heartily, if not as cheerfully as ever I have done since we first met. All good go with you, Tom. You leave me so, you can leave me so, can you? Said Tom. You have chosen for yourself, Tom. I hope it was a rash choice, Martin faltered. I think it was, I am sure it was. Goodbye, and he was gone. Tom led his little sister to her chair and sat down in his own. He took his book and read or seemed to read. Presently he sat aloud, turning a leaf as he spoke. He will be very sorry for this, and a tear stole down his face and dropped upon the page. Ruth nestled down beside him on her knees and clasped her arms about his neck. No, Tom, no, no, be comforted, dear Tom. I am quite comforted, said Tom, it will be set right. Such a cruel bad return, cried Ruth. No, no, said Tom, he believes it. I cannot imagine why, but it will be set right. More closely yet she nestled down about him and wept as if her heart would break. Don't, don't, said Tom, why do you hide your face, my dear? Then in a burst of tears it all broke out at last. Oh, Tom, dear Tom, I know your secret heart. I have found it out. You couldn't hide the truth from me. Why didn't you tell me? I am sure I could have made you happier if you had. You love her, Tom, so dearly. Tom made a motion with his hand as if he would have put his sister hurriedly away, but it clasped upon hers and all his little history was written in the action. All its pathetic eloquence was in the silent touch. In spite of that, said Ruth, you have been so faithful and so good, dear. In spite of that you have been so true and self-denying and have struggled with yourself. In spite of that you have been so gentle and so kind and even-tempered that I have never seen you give a hasty look or heard you say one irritable word. In spite of all, you have been so cruelly mistaken. Oh, Tom, dear Tom, will this be set right, too? Will it, Tom? Will you always have this sorrow in your breast? You who deserve to be so happy? Or is there any hope? And still she hid her face from Tom and clasped him around the neck and wept for him and poured out all her woman's heart and soul in the relief and pain of this disclosure. It was not very long before she and Tom were sitting side by side and she was looking with an earnest quietness in Tom's face. Then Tom spoke to her thus, cheerily, though gravely. I am very glad, my dear, that this has passed between us, not because it assures me of your tender affection, for I was well assured of that before, but because it relieves my mind of a great weight. Tom's eyes glistened when he spoke of her affection and he kissed her on the cheek. My dear girl, said Tom, with whatever feeling I regard her. They seemed to avoid the name by mutual consent. I have long ago, I am sure I may say from the very first, looked upon it as a dream, as something that might possibly have happened under very different circumstances, but which can never be. Now tell me, what would you have set right? She gave Tom such a significant little look that he was obliged to take it for an answer, whether he would or no, and to go on. By her own choice and free consent, my love, she has betrothed to Martin and was long before either of them knew of my existence. You would have her betrothed to me? Yes, she said directly. Yes, rejoined Tom, but that might be setting it wrong instead of right. Do you think, said Tom, with a grave smile, that even if she had never seen him, it is very likely she would have fallen in love with me? Why not, dear Tom? Tom shook his head and smiled again. You think of me, Ruth, said Tom, and it is very natural that you should, as if I were a character in a book and you make it a sort of poetical justice that I should by some impossible means or other, come at last to marry the person I love. But there is a much higher justice than poetical justice, my dear, and it does not order events upon the same principle. Accordingly, people who read about heroes in books and choose to make heroes of themselves out of books consider it a very fine thing to be discontented and gloomy and misanthropical and perhaps a little blasphemous because they cannot have everything ordered for their individual accommodation. Would you like me to become one of that sort of people? No, Tom, but still I know, she added timidly, that this is a sorrow to you in your own better way. Tom thought of disputing the position, but it would have been mere folly, and he gave it up. My dear, said Tom, I will repay your affection with the truth and all the truth. It is a sorrow to me. I have proved it to be so sometimes, though I have always striven against it. But somebody who is precious to you may die and you may dream that you are in heaven with a departed spirit, and you may find it a sorrow to wait to the life on earth, which is no harder to be born than when you fell asleep. It is sorrowful to me to contemplate my dream, which I always knew was a dream, even when it first presented itself. But the realities about me are not to blame. They are the same as they were. My sister, my sweet companion, who makes this place so dear, is she less devoted to me, Ruth, than she would have been if this vision had never troubled me? My old friend, John, who might so easily have treated me with coldness and neglect, is he less cordial to me? The world about me, is there less good in that? Are my words to be harsh and my looks to be sour? And is my heart to grow cold because there has fallen in my way a good and beautiful creature? Who but for the selfish regret that I cannot call her my own would, like all other good and beautiful creatures, make me happier and better? No, my dear sister, no, said Tom Stoutly. Remembering all my means of happiness, I hardly dare to call this lurking something a sorrow. But whatever name it may justly bear, I thank heaven that it renders me more sensible of affection and attachment, and softens me in fifty ways. Not less happy, not less happy, Ruth. She could not speak to him, but she loved him as he well deserved, even as he deserved, she loved him. She will open Martin's eyes, said Tom, with a glow of pride, and that, which is indeed wrong, will be set right. Nothing will persuade her, I know, that I have betrayed him. It will be set right through her, and he will be very sorry for it. Our secret, Ruth, is our own, and lives and dies with us. I don't believe I ever could have told at you, said Tom, with a smile, but how glad I am to think you have found it out. They had never taken such a pleasant walk as they took that night. Tom told her all so freely and so simply, and was so desirous to return her tenderness with his fullest confidence, that they prolonged it far beyond their usual hour, and sat up late when they came home. And when they parted for the night, there was such a tranquil, beautiful expression in Tom's face that she could not bear to shut it out. But going back on tiptoe to his chamber door, looked in and stood there till he saw her, and then embracing him again withdrew, and in her prayers and in her sleep, good times to be remembered with such fervor, Tom, his name was uppermost. When he was left alone, Tom pondered very much on this discovery of hers, and greatly wondered what had led her to it. Because, thought Tom, I have been so very careful. It was foolish and unnecessary in me, as I clearly see now, when I am so relieved by her knowing it, but I have been so very careful to conceal it from her. Of course, I knew that she was intelligent and quick, and for that reason was more upon my guard, but I was not in the least prepared for this. I am sure her discovery has been sudden, too. Dear me, said Tom, it's a most singular instance of penetration. Tom could not get it out of his head. There it was when his head was on his pillow. How she trembled when she began to tell me she knew it, thought Tom, recalling all the little incidents and circumstances, and how her face flushed. But that was natural, oh, quite natural, that needs no accounting for. Tom little thought how natural it was. Tom little knew that there was that in Ruth's own heart, but newly set there, which had helped her to the reading of his mystery. Ah, Tom, he didn't understand the whispers of the temple fountain, though he passed it every day. Who so lively and cheerful as busy Ruth next morning? Her early tap at Tom's door and her light foot outside would have been music to him, though she had not spoken. But she said it was the brightest morning ever seen, and so it was. And if it had been otherwise, she would have made it so to Tom. She was ready with his neat breakfast when he went downstairs and had her bonnet ready for the early walk and was so full of news that Tom was lost in wonder. She might have been up all night collecting it for his entertainment. There was Mr. Naget not come home yet, and there was bread down a penny aloof, and there was twice as much strength than this tea is in the last, and the milk woman's husband had come out of the hospital cured, and the curly-headed child over the way had been lost all yesterday, and she was going to make all sorts of preserves in a desperate hurry, and there happened to be a saucepan in the house which was the very saucepan for the purpose, and she knew all about the last book Tom had brought home all through, though it was a teaser to read. And she had so much to tell him that she had finished breakfast first. Then she had her little bonnet on and the tea and sugar locked up and the keys and her reticule and the flour as usual in Tom's coat and was in all respects quite ready to accompany him before Tom knew she had begun to prepare, and in short, as Tom said, with a confidence in his own assertion which amounted to a defiance of the public in general, there never was such a little woman. She made Tom talkative. It was impossible to resist her. She put such enticing questions to him about books and about dates of churches and about organs and about the temple and about all kinds of things. Indeed, she lightened the way and Tom's heart with it, to that degree that the temple looked quite blank and solitary when he parted from her at the gate. No Mr. Phipps's friend today, I suppose, thought Tom as he ascended the stairs. Not yet, at any rate, for the door was closed as usual and Tom opened it with his key. He had got the books into perfect order now and had mended the torn leaves and had pasted up the broken backs and substituted neat labels for the worn-out letterings. It looked a different place. It was so orderly and neat. Tom felt some pride in contemplating the change he had wrought, though there was no one to approve or disapprove of it. He was at present occupied in making a fair copy of his draft of the catalog, on which, as there was no hurry, he was painfully concentrating all the ingenious and laborious neatness he had ever expended on map or plan in Mr. Pexniff's work room. It was a very marvel of a catalog, for Tom sometimes thought he was really getting his money too easily and he had determined within himself that this document should take a little of his superfluous leisure out of him. So with pens and ruler and compasses and India rubber and pencil and black ink and red ink, Tom worked away all the morning. He thought a good deal about Martin in their interview of yesterday would have been far easier in his mind if he could have resolved to confide it to his friend John and to have taken his opinion on the subject. But besides that he knew what John's boiling indignation would be, he bethought himself that he was helping Martin now in a matter of great moment and that to deprive the latter of his assistance at such a crisis of affairs would be to inflict a serious injury upon him. So I'll keep it to myself, said Tom with a sigh. I'll keep it to myself. And to work he went again more assiduously than ever with the pens and the ruler and the India rubber and the pencils and the red ink that he might forget it. He had labored away another hour or more when he heard a footstep in the entry down below. Ah, said Tom looking towards the door. Time was not long ago either when that would have set me wondering and expecting but I have left off now. The footstep came on up the stairs. 36, 37, 38, said Tom, counting. Now you'll stop. Nobody ever comes past the 38th stair. The person did certainly but only to take breath for up the footstep came again. 40, 41, 42 and so on. The door stood open. As the tread advanced, Tom looked impatiently and eagerly towards it. When a figure came upon the landing and arriving in the doorway stopped and gazed at him, he rose up from his chair and half-believed he saw a spirit. Old Martin Cheslowit, the same whom he had left at Mr. Pexniff's week in sinking. The same? No, not the same for this old man, though old was strong and leaned upon his stick with a vigorous hand, while with the other he signed to Tom to make no noise. One glance at the resolute face, the watchful eye, the vigorous hand upon the staff, the triumphant purpose in the figure, and such a light broke in on Tom as blinded him. You have expected me, said Martin, a long time. I was told that my employer would arrive soon, said Tom, but I know you were ignorant who he was. It was my desire. I am glad it has been so well-observed. I intended to have been with you much sooner. I thought the time had come. I thought I could know no more and no worse of him than I did on that day when I saw you last. But I was wrong. He had by this time come up to Tom and now he grasped his hand. I have lived in his house pinch and had him fawning on me days and weeks and months. You know it. I have suffered him to treat me like his tool and instrument. You know it, you have seen me there. I have undergone 10,000 times as much as I could have endured if I had been the miserable weak old man he took me for. You know it. I have seen him offer love to Mary. You know it, who better? Who better, my true heart? I have had his base soul bear before me day by day and have not betrayed myself once. I never could have undergone such torture but for looking forward to this time. He stopped, even in the passion of his speech, if that can be called passion which was so resolute and steady, to press Tom's hand again. Then he said, in great excitement, close the door. Close the door, he will not belong after me but may come too soon. The time now drawing on, said the old man hurriedly. His eyes and whole face brightening as he spoke will make amends for all. I wouldn't have him die or hang himself for millions of gold pieces. Close the door. Tom did so, hardly knowing yet whether he was awake or in a dream. End of chapter 50. Chapter 51, part one, of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuselwit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuselwit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 51. Shed's new and brighter light upon the very dark place and contains the sequel of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas and his friend. Part one. The night had now come when the old clerk was to be delivered over to his keepers. In the midst of his guilty distractions, Jonas had not forgotten it. It was a part of his guilty state of mind to remember it. For on his persistence in the scheme depended one of his precautions for his own safety. A hint, a word from the old man, uttered at such a moment in attentive ears, might fire the train of suspicion and destroy him. His watchfulness of every avenue by which the discovery of his guilt might be approached sharpened with his sense of the danger by which he was encompassed. With murder on his soul and its innumerable alarms and terrors dragging at him night and day, he would have repeated the crime if he had seen a path of safety stretching out beyond. It was in his punishment. It was in his guilty condition. The very deed which his fears rendered insupportable, his fears would have impelled him to commit again. But keeping the old man close, according to his design, would serve his turn. His purpose was to escape when the first alarm and wonder had subsided and when he could make the attempt without awakening instant suspicion. In the meanwhile these women would keep him quiet and if the talking humor came upon him would not be easily startled. He knew their trade. Nor had he spoken idly when he said the old man should be gagged. He had resolved to ensure his silence and he looked to the end, not the means. He had been rough and rude and cruel to the old man all his life and violence was natural to his mind in connection with him. He shall be gagged if he speaks and pinioned if he writes, said Jonas, looking at him, for they sat alone together. He is mad enough for that. I'll go through with it. Hush. Still listening to every sound. He had listened ever since and it had not come yet. The exposure of the assurance office, the flight of crimple and bulamy with the plunder and among the rest as he feared with his own bill which he had not found in the pocketbook of the murdered man and which with Mr. Pexniff's money had probably been remitted to one or other of those trusty friends for safe deposit at the bankers. His immense losses and peril of being still called to account as a partner in the broken firm, all these things rose in his mind at one time and always but he could not contemplate them. He was aware of their presence and of the rage, discomforture and despair they brought along with them but he thought of his own controlling power and direction he thought of the one dread question only when they would find the body in the wood. He tried, he had never left off trying not to forget it was there for that was impossible but to forget to weary himself by drawing vivid pictures of it in his fancy by going softly about it and about it among the leaves approaching it nearer and nearer through a gap in the boughs and startling the very flies that were thickly sprinkled all over it like heaps of dried currents. His mind was fixed and fastened down the discovery for intelligence of which he listened intently to every cry and shout. Listened when anyone came in or went out watched from the window the people who passed up and down the street mistrusted his own looks and words and the more his thoughts were set upon the discovery the stronger was the fascination which attracted them to the thing itself lying alone in the wood. He was forever showing and presenting it as it were to every creature whom he saw. Look here, do you know of this? Is it found? Do you suspect me? If he had been condemned to bear the body in his arms and lay it down for recognition at the feet of everyone he met it could not have been more constantly with him or a cause of more monotonous and dismal occupation than it was in this state of his mind. Still he was not sorry. It was no contrition or remorse for what he had done that moved him. It was nothing but alarm for his own security. The vague consciousness he possessed of having wrecked his fortune in the murderous venture intensified his hatred and revenge and made him set the greater store by what he had gained. The man was dead, nothing could undo that. He felt a triumph yet in the reflection. He had kept a jealous watch on Chuffy ever since the deed, seldom leaving him but on compulsion and then for as short intervals as possible. They were alone together now. It was twilight and the appointed time drew near at hand. Jonas walked up and down the room. The old man sat in his accustomed corner. The slightest circumstance was matter of disquiet to the murderer and he was made uneasy at this time by the absence of his wife who had left home early in the afternoon and had not returned yet. No tenderness for her was at the bottom of this, but he had a misgiving that she might have been waylaid and tempted into saying something that would criminate him when the news came. For anything he knew she might have knocked at the door of his room while he was away and discovered his plot. Count found her it was like her pale face to be wandering up and down the house. Where was she now? She went to her good friend, Mrs. Todgers, said the old man when he asked a question with an angry oath. I, to be sure, always stealing away into the company of that woman. She was no friend of his who could tell what devil's mischief they might hatch together. Let her be fetched home directly. The old man muttering some words softly rose as if he would have gone himself but Jonah stressed him back into his chair with an impatient implication and sent a servant girl to fetch her. When he had charged her with her air and he walked to and fro again and never stopped till she came back which she did pretty soon, the way being short and the woman having made good haste. Well, where was she? Had she come? No, she had left there full three hours. Left there, alone? The messenger had not asked, taking that for granted. Curse you for a fool, bring candles. She had scarcely left the room when the old clerk who had been unusually observant of him ever since he had asked about his wife came suddenly upon him. Give her up, cried the old man. Come, give her up to me. Tell me what you have done with her, quick. I have made no promises on that score. Tell me what you have done with her. He laid his hands upon his collar as he spoke and grasped it, tightly too. You shall not leave me, cried the old man. I am strong enough to cry out to the neighbors and I will, unless you give her up. Give her up to me. Jonas was so dismayed and conscious stricken that he had not even heartyhood enough to unclench the old man's hands with his own but stood looking at him as well as he could in the darkness without moving a finger. It was as much as he could do to ask him what he meant. I will know what you have done with her, retarded chuffy. If you heard a hair of her head, you shall answer it. Poor thing, poor thing, where is she? Well, you old madman, said Jonas in a low voice and with trembling lips. What bedlam fit has come upon you now? It is enough to make me mad, seeing what I have seen in this house, cried chuffy. Where is my dear old master? Where is his only son that I have nursed upon my knee a child? Where is she, she who was the last? She that I've seen pining day by day and heard weeping in the dead of night. She was the last, the last of all my friends. Heaven help me, she was the very last. Seeing that the tears were stealing down his face, Jonas mustered courage to unclench his hands and push him off before he answered. Did you hear me ask for her? Did you hear me send for her? How can I give you up what I haven't got, idiot? You could I'd give her up to you and welcome if I could, in the precious pair you'd be. If she has come to any harm, cried chuffy, mind I'm old and silly, but I have my memory sometimes. And if she has come to any harm, devil take you, interrupted Jonas, but in a suppressed voice still. What harm do you suppose she has come to? I know no more where she is than you do. I wish I did. Wait till she comes home and see. She can't be long, will that content you? Mind, exclaimed the old man, not a hair of her head, not a hair of her head ill used, I won't bear it. I have borne it too long, Jonas. I am silent, but I can speak, I can speak, he stammered as he crept back to his chair and turned to threatening though a feeble look upon him. You can speak, can you, thought Jonas? So, so, we'll stop your speaking. As well I knew of this in good time. Prevention is better than cure. He had made a poor show of playing the bully and evincing a desire to conciliate at the same time, but was so afraid of the old man that great drops had started out upon his brow and they stood there yet. His unusual tone of voice and agitated manner had sufficiently expressed his fear, but his face would have done so now without that aid as he again walked to and fro, glancing at him by the candlelight. He stopped at the window to think. An opposite shop was lighted up and the tradesmen and a customer were reading some printed bill together across the counter. The site brought him back instantly to the occupation he had forgotten. Look here, do you know of this? Is it found? Do you suspect me? A hand upon the door. What's that? A pleasant evening, said the voice of Mrs. Gamp, though warm, which bless you, Mr. Chuzzlewood, we must expect when Cal Cumber's is three for tuppence. How does Mr. Chuffey find himself tonight, sir? Mrs. Gamp kept particularly close to the door in saying this and curtsied more than usual. She did not appear to be quite so much at her ease as she generally was. Get him to his room, said Jonas, walking up to her and speaking in her ear. He has been raving tonight, stark mad. Don't talk while he's here, but come down again. Poor, sweet, dear, cried Mrs. Gamp with uncommon tenderness. He's all of a tremble. Well, he may be, said Jonas, after the mad fit he has had. Get him upstairs. She was by this time assisting him to rise. There's my blessed old chick, cried Mrs. Gamp, in a tone that was at once soothing and encouraging. There's my darling, Mr. Chuffey. Now come up to your own room, sir, and lay down on your bed for a bit, for you're as shaken all over as if your precious giant was hung upon wires. That's a good creed, or come with Sarri. Is she come home, inquired the old man? She'll be here directly minute, returned Mrs. Gamp. Come with Sarri, Mr. Chuffey, come with your own Sarri. The good woman had no reference to any female in the world in promising this speedy advent as the person for whom Mr. Chuffey inquired, but merely threw it out as the means of pacifying the old man. It had its effect, for he permitted her to lead him away, and they quitted the room together. Jonas looked out of the window again. They were still reading the printed paper in the shop opposite, and a third man had joined in the perusal. What could it be to interest them so? A dispute or discussion seemed to arise among them, for they all looked up from their reading together and one of the three who had been glancing over the shoulder of another stepped back to explain or illustrate some action by his gestures. Horror, how like the blow he had struck in the wood. It beat him from the window as if it had lighted on himself. As he staggered into a chair, he thought of the change in Mrs. Gamp exhibited in her newborn tenderness to her charge. Was that because it was found? Because she knew of it, because she suspected him? Mr. Chuffy is a lying down, said Mrs. Gamp, returning. And much good may it do him, Mr. Chuzzawit, which harm it can't and good it may be joyful. Sit down, said Jonas hoarsely, and let us get this business done. Where is the other woman? The other person's with him now, she answered. That's right, said Jonas. He is not fit to be left to himself. Why he fastened on me tonight? Here, upon my coat, like a savage dog, old as he is and feeble as he is usually, I had some trouble to shake him off. You hush, it's nothing. You told me the other woman's name, I forget it. I mentioned Betsy Prigg, said Mrs. Gamp. She is to be trusted, is she? That she ain't, said Mrs. Gamp, nor have I brought her, Mr. Chuzzawit. I've brought another, which engages to give every satisfaction. What is her name, asked Jonas. Mrs. Gamp looked at him in an odd way without returning any answer, but appeared to understand the question, too. What is her name, repeated Jonas? Her name, said Mrs. Gamp, is Harris. It was extraordinary how much effort it cost Mrs. Gamp to pronounce the name she was commonly so ready with. She made some three or four gasps before she could get it out. And when she had outed it, pressed her hand upon her side and turned up her eyes as if she were going to faint away. But knowing her to labor under a complication of internal disorders, which rendered a few drops of spirits indispensable at certain times to her existence, and which came on very strong when that remedy was not at hand, Jonas merely supposed her to be the victim of one of these attacks. Well, he said hastily, for he felt how incapable he was of confining his wandering attention to the subject. You and she have arranged to take care of him, have you? Mrs. Gamp replied in the affirmative and softly discharged herself of her familiar phrase. Turn and turn about, one off, one on. But she spoke so tremulously that she felt called upon to add, which fiddled strings as weakness to expredge my nerves this night. Jonas stopped to listen, then said hurriedly, we shall not quarrel about terms, let them be the same as they were before. Keep him close and keep him quiet. He must be restrained. He has got it in his head tonight that my wife's dead and has been attacking me as if I had killed her. It's common with mad people to take the worst fancies of those they like best, isn't it? Mrs. Gamp assented with a short groan. Keep him close, then, or in one of his fits he'll be doing me a mischief and don't trust him at any time, for when he seems most rational, he's wildest in his talk, but that you know already. Let me see the other. The tether person, sir, said Mrs. Gamp. I go you to him and send the other, quick, I'm busy. Mrs. Gamp took two or three backward steps towards the door and stopped there. It is your wishes, Mr. Chuzzawit, she said in a sort of quavering croak, to see tether person, is it? But the ghastly change in Jonas told her that the other person was already seen. Before she could look round towards the door, she was put aside by old Martin's hand and Chuffy and John Westlock entered with him. But no one leave the house, said Martin. This man is my brother's son. You'll met ill-trained, ill-begotten. If he moves from the spot on which he stands or speaks a word above his breath to any person here, open the window and call for help. What right have you to give such directions in this house? Asked Jonas faintly. The right of your wrongdoing. Come in there. An irrepressible exclamation burst from the lips of Jonas as Lusim entered at the door. It was not a groan or a shriek or a word, but was wholly unlike any sound that had ever fallen on the ears of those who heard it, while at the same time it was the most sharp and terrible expression of what was working in his guilty breath that nature could have invented. He had done murder for this. He had girdled himself about with perils, agonies of mind, innumerable fears for this. He had hidden his secret in the wood, pressed and stamped it down into the bloody ground, and here it started up when least expected, miles upon miles away, known to many, proclaiming itself from the lips of an old man who had renewed his strength and vigor as bio-miracle to give it voice against him. He leaned his hand on the back of a chair and looked at them. It was in vain to try to do so scornfully or with his usual insolence. He required the chair for his support, but he made a struggle for it. "'I know that fellow,' he said, fetching his breath at every word and pointing his trembling finger towards Lusim. He's the greatest liar alive. What's his last tale? Your rare fellows, too. Why, that uncle of mine is childish. He's even a greater child than his brother my father was in his old age, or than chuffy is. What the devil do you mean?' he added, looking fiercely at John Westlock and Mark Tapley. The latter had entered with Lusim. "'By coming here and bringing two idiots in a nave with you to take my house by storm. Hello there. Open the door. Turn these strangers out.' "'I tell you what,' cried Mr. Tapley, coming forward. "'If it wasn't for your name, I'd drag you through the streets in my own accord and single-handed, I would. "'I would. Don't try and look bold at me. You can't do it. Now go on, sir.' This was too old Martin. "'Bring the murderer and wag a bond upon his knees. If he wants noise, he shall have enough of it. For as sure as he's a shiver and from head to foot I'll raise a uproar at this window that shall bring half London in. "'Go on, sir. Let him try me once and see whether I'm a man of my word or not.' With that, Mark folded his arms and took his seat upon the window ledge, with an air of general preparation for anything, which seemed to imply that he was equally ready to jump out himself or to throw Jonas out, upon receiving the slightest hint that it would be agreeable to the company. Old Martin turned to Lusim. "'This is the man,' he said, extending his hand towards Jonas, is it? "'You need do no more than look at him to be sure of that, or of the truth of what I have said,' was the reply. "'He is my witness.' "'Oh, brother,' cried old Martin, clasping his hands and lifting up his eyes. "'Oh, brother, brother, were we strangers half our lives that you might read a wretch like this, and I make life a desert by withering every flower that grew about me? Is it the natural end of your precepts in mind that this should be the creature of your rearing, training, teaching, hoarding, striving for, and I, the means of bringing him to punishment when nothing can repair the wasted past?' He sat down upon a chair as he spoke, and turning away his face was silent for a few moments. Then with recovered energy he proceeded. "'But the accursed harvest of our mistaken lives shall be trodden down. It is not too late for that. "'You are confronted with this man, you monster there, not to be spared but to be dealt with justly. "'Hear what he says. "'Reply, be silent, contradict, repeat, defy, do what you please. My course will be the same. "'Go on.' "'And you,' he said to Chuffy, "'for the love of your old friend, speak out, good fellow.' "'I have been silent for his love,' cried the old man. "'He urged me to it. "'He made me promise it upon his dying bed. "'I never would have spoken but for your finding out so much. "'I have thought about it ever since. "'I couldn't help that. "'And sometimes I have had it all before me in a dream. "'But in the daytime, not in sleep. "'Is there such a kind of dream?' said Chuffy, "'looking anxiously in old Martin's face. "'As Martin made him an encouraging reply, "'he listened attentively to his voice and smiled. "'Ah, I,' he cried. "'He often spoke to me like that. "'We were at school together,' he and I. "'I couldn't turn against his son, you know. "'His only son, Mr. Chuzzlewitt.' "'I would to heaven you had been his son,' said Martin. "'You speak so like my dear old master,' cried the old man "'with a childish delight, that I almost think I hear him. "'I can hear you quite as well as I used to hear him. "'It makes me young again. "'He never spoke unkindly to me, and I always understood him. "'I could always see him, too, though my sight was dim. "'Well, well, he's dead. "'He's dead. "'He was very good to me, my dear old master.' "'He shook his head mournfully over the brother's hand. "'At this moment, Mark, who had been glancing "'out of the window, left the room. "'I couldn't turn against his only son, you know,' said Chuffy. "'He has nearly driven me to do it sometimes. "'He very nearly did tonight.' "'Ah,' cried the old man, with a sudden recollection "'of the cause. "'Where is she? "'She's not come home.' "'Do you mean his wife?' said Mr. Chuzzawit. "'Yes. "'I have removed her. "'She is in my care and will be spared the present knowledge "'of what is passing here. "'She has known misery enough without that addition.' "'Jonas heard this with a sinking heart. "'He knew that they were on his heels "'and felt that they were resolute to run him to destruction. "'Inch by inch, the ground beneath him "'was sliding from his feet. "'Faster and faster, the encircling ruin "'contracted and contracted towards himself, "'its wicked center, until it should close in and crush him. "'And now he heard the voice of his accomplice, "'stating to his face, with every circumstance "'of time and place and incident, "'and openly proclaiming, with no reserve, "'suppression, passion, or concealment, all the truth. "'The truth which nothing would keep down, "'which blood would not smother, and earth would not hide. "'The truth, whose terrible inspirations "'seemed to change daughters into strong men, "'and on whose avenging wings, "'one whom he had supposed to be "'at the extremist corner of the earth, "'came swooping down upon him. "'He tried to deny it, but his tongue would not move. "'He conceived some desperate thought "'of rushing away and tearing through the streets, "'but his limbs would as little answer to his will "'as his stark, stiff, staring face. "'All this time the voice went slowly on, denouncing him. "'It was as if every drop of blood in the wood "'had found a voice to jeer him with. "'When it ceased, another voice took up the tale, "'but strangely, for the old clerk "'who had watched and listened to the whole, "'and had wrung his hands from time to time, "'as if he knew its truth and could confirm it, "'roke in with these words. "'No, no, no, you're wrong. "'You're wrong, all wrong together. "'Have patience, for the truth is only known to me. "'How can that be?' said his old master's brother, "'after what you have heard. "'Besides, you said just now above stairs "'when I told you of the accusation against him "'that you knew he was his father's murderer. "'I, yes, and so he was,' cried Chuffy wildly, "'but not as you suppose. "'Not as you suppose. "'Stay, give me a moment's time. "'I have it all here, all here. "'It was foul, foul, cruel, bad. "'But not as you suppose. "'Stay, stay. "'Put his hands up to his head, "'as if it throbbed or pained him. "'After looking about him in a wandering "'and vacant manner for some moments, "'his eyes rested upon Jonas "'when they kindled up with sudden recollection "'and intelligence. "'Yes,' cried old Chuffy. "'Yes, that's how it was. "'It's all upon me now. "'He got up from his bed before he died, "'to be sure, to say that he forgave him, "'and he came down with me into this room. "'And when he saw him, his only son, "'the son he loved, his speech foresook him. "'He had no speech for what he knew, "'and no one understood him except me, but I did. "'I did.' "'Old Martin regarded him in amazement, "'so did his companions. "'Mrs. Gamp, who had said nothing yet, "'but had kept two-thirds of herself behind the door, "'ready for escape, and one-third in the room, "'ready for sighting with the strongest party, "'came a little further in and remarked with a sob "'that Mr. Chuffy was the sweetest old creed-er going. "'He bought the stuff,' said Chuffy, "'stretching out his arm towards Jonas, "'while an unwanted fire shone in his eye, "'and lightened up his face. "'He bought the stuff, no doubt, as you have heard, "'and brought it home. "'He mixed the stuff. "'Look at him, with some sweet meat "'in a jar, exactly as the medicine "'for his father's cough was mixed, "'and put it in a drawer, in that drawer, "'yonder in the desk. "'He knows which drawer I mean. "'He kept it there locked up, "'but his courage failed him, or his heart was touched. "'My God, I hope it was his heart. "'He was his only son, "'and he did not put it in the usual place "'where my old master would have taken it twenty times a day. "'The trembling figure of the old man shook "'with the strong emotions that possessed him. "'But with the same light in his eye, "'and with his arm outstretched, "'and with his gray hair stirring on his head, "'he seemed to grow in size, "'and was like a man inspired. "'Jonas shrunk from looking at him, "'and cowered down into the chair by which he had held. "'It seemed as if this tremendous truth "'could make the dome speak.' "'I know what every word now,' cried Chuffy, "'every word. "'He put it in that drawer, as I have said. "'He went so often there, and was so secret "'that his father took notice of it, "'and when he was out, had it opened. "'We were there together, and we found the mixture, "'Mr. Chuzzle, with an eye. "'He took it into his possession "'and made light of it at the time. "'But in the night, he came to my bedside, "'weeping, and told me that his own son "'had it in his mind to poison him. "'Oh, chuff,' he said. "'Oh, dear old chuff, "'a voice came into my room tonight, "'and told me that this crime began with me. "'It began when I taught him to be too covetous "'of what I have to leave, "'and made the expectation of it his great business. "'Those were his words. "'I, they are his very words. "'If he was a hard man now and then, "'it was for his only son. "'He loved his only son, "'and he was always good to me.' "'Donus listened with increased attention. "'Hope was breaking in upon him. "'He shall not weary for my death, chuff.' "'That was what he said next.' "'Pursued the old clerk as he wiped his eyes. "'That was what he said next. "'Crying like a little child. "'He shall not weary for my death, chuff. "'He shall have it now. "'He shall marry where he has a fancy, chuff, "'although it don't please me. "'And you and I will go away and live upon a little. "'I always loved him. "'Perhaps he'll love me then. "'It's a dreadful thing to have my own child "'thirsting for my death. "'But I might have known it. "'I have sown and I must reap. "'He shall believe that I am taking this. "'And when I see that he is sorry and has all he wants, "'I'll tell him that I found it out and I'll forgive him. "'He'll make a better man of his own son "'and be a better man himself, perhaps, chuff.' "'Poor chuff, he paused to dry his eyes again. "'Old Martin's face was hidden in his hands. "'Donus listened, still more keenly, "'and his breast heaved like a swollen water. "'But with hope, with growing hope. "'My dear old master made believe next day,' said Chuffy, "'that he had opened the drawer by mistake "'with a key from the bunch, which happened to fit it. "'We had one made and hung upon it. "'And that he had been surprised "'to find his fresh supply of cloth medicine "'in such a place, "'but supposed it had been put there in a hurry "'when the drawer stood open. "'We burnt it, but his son believed "'that he was taking it. "'He knows he did. "'Once Mr. Chuzzle went to try him "'to a cart to say it had a strange taste, "'and he got up directly and went out. "'Donus gave a short dry cough, "'and changing his position for an easier one "'folded his arms without looking at them, "'though they could now see his face. "'Mr. Chuzzle went, wrote to her father, "'I mean the father of the poor thing who's his wife,' "'said Chuffy, and got him to come up, "'intending to hasten on the marriage. "'But his mind, like mine, "'went a little wrong through grief, "'and then his heart broke. "'He sank and altered from the time "'when he came to me in the night, "'and never held up his head again. "'It was only a few days, "'but he had never changed so much in twice the years. "'Spare him, Chuff,' he said before he died, "'there were the only words he could speak. "'Spare him, Chuff. "'I promised him I would. "'I've tried to do it. "'He's his only son.' "'On his recollection of the last scene "'in his old friend's life, "'Poor Chuffy's voice, which had grown weaker and weaker, "'quite deserted him. "'Making a motion with his hand, "'as if he would have said that Anthony had taken it, "'and had died with it in his, "'he retreated to the corner, "'where he usually concealed his sorrows, "'and was silent.' End of chapter 51, Part 1. Chapter 51, Part 2 of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuselwit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuselwit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 51, Part 2. Jonas could look at his company now, and vauntingly too. Well, he said after a pause, are you satisfied, or have you any more of your plots to broach? Where that fellow, Lusim, can invent him for you by the score? Is this all? Have you nothing else? Old Martin looked at him steadily. "'Whether you are what you seem to be at Peck Sniffs, "'or as something else, an amount of bank, "'I don't know, and I don't care,' said Jonas, "'looking downward with a smile, "'but I don't want to hear. "'You were here so often when your brother was alive, "'and were always so fond of him. "'Your dear, dear brother, "'and you would have been cuffing one another before this, "'e-cod, that I am not surprised "'that you're being attached to the place. "'But the place is not attached to you, "'and you can't leave it too soon, "'though you may leave it too late. "'And for my wife, old man, send her home straight, "'or it will be the worst for her. "'Haha, you carry it with a high hand, too. "'But it isn't hanging yet for a man "'to keep a pen or the poison for his own purposes, "'and have it taken from him "'by two old crazy jolterheads "'who go and act a play about it. "'Haha, do you see the door?' "'His base triumph, struggling with his cowardice "'and shame and guilt, was so detestable "'that they turned away from him, "'as if he were some obscene and filthy animal, "'re-pugnant to the sight. "'And here, that last black crime was busy with him, too, "'working within him to his perdition. "'But for that the old clerk's story "'might have touched him, though never so lightly. "'But for that the sudden removal of so great a load "'might have brought about some wholesome change, "'even in him. "'With that deed done, however, "'with that unnecessary wasteful danger haunting him, "'despair was in his very triumph and relief, "'wild, ungovernable raging despair "'for the uselessness of the peril "'into which he had plunged, "'despair that hardened him and maddened him "'and set his teeth aggrinding in a moment of his exultation. "'My good friend,' said old Martin, "'laying his hand on Chuffy's sleeve, "'this is no place for you to remain in. "'Come with me.' "'Just his old way,' cried Chuffy, "'looking up into his face, "'I almost believe it's Mr. Chuzzlewitt alive again. "'Yes, take me with you. "'Stay, though, stay.' "'For what?' asked old Martin. "'I can't leave her, poor thing. "'Said Chuffy, she has been very good to me. "'I can't leave her, Mr. Chuzzlewitt. "'Thank you kindly. "'I'll remain here. "'I haven't long to remain. "'It's no great matter.' "'As he meekly shook his poor gray head "'and thanked old Martin in these words, "'this is Gamp, now entirely in the room, "'was affected to tears. "'The mercy as it is,' she said, "'as such a dear, good, reverend creed "'never got into the clutches of Betsy Prigg, "'which but for me he would have done undoubted. "'Facts being stubborn and not easy drove. "'You heard me speak to you just now, old man,' said Jonas to his uncle. "'I'll have no more tampering with my people. "'Man or woman, do you see the door?' "'Do you see the door?' returned to the voice of Mark, "'coming from that direction. "'Look at it.' "'He looked and his gaze was nailed there. "'Fatal, ill-omend, blighted threshold, "'cursed by his father's footsteps "'in his dying hour, "'cursed by his young wife's sorrowing tread, "'cursed by the daily shadow of the old clerk's figure, "'cursed by the crossing of his murderer's feet. "'What men were standing in the doorway?' "'Naget, foremost.' "'Hark! "'It came on, roaring like a sea. "'Hawkers burst into the street, "'crying it up and down. "'Windows were thrown open "'that the inhabitants might hear it. "'People stopped to listen in the road and on the pavement. "'The bells, the same bells, began to ring, "'tumbling over one another "'in a dance of boisterous joy at the discovery. "'That was the sound they had in his distempered thoughts "'and making their airy playground rock. "'That is the man,' said Naget, by the window. "'Three others came in, "'laid hands upon him and secured him. "'It was so quickly done that he had not lost sight "'of the informer's face for an instant "'when his wrists were manacled together. "'Murder,' said Naget, "'looking round on the astonished group. "'Let no one interfere.' "'The sounding street repeated, "'murder, barbarous and dreadful, murder, "'murder, murder, murder, "'rolling on from house to house "'and echoing from stone to stone "'until the voices died away into the distant home "'which seemed to mutter the same word. "'They all stood silent, listening and gazing "'in each other's faces as the noise passed on. "'Old Martin was the first to speak. "'What terrible history is this?' he demanded. "'Ask him,' said Naget. "'You're his friend, sir. "'He can tell you if he will. "'He knows more of it than I do, though I know much. "'How do you know much?' "'I have not been watching him so long for nothing,' returned Naget. "'I never watched a man so close as I have watched him. "'Another of the phantom forms of this terrific truth, "'another of the many shapes in which it started up "'about him out of vacancy. "'This man, of all men in the world, a spy upon him, "'this man, changing his identity, "'casting off his shrinking, "'perblind, unobservant character "'and springing up into a watchful enemy. "'The dead man might have come out of his grave "'and not confounded and appalled him more. "'The game was up, the race was at an end, "'the rope was woven for his neck. "'If by a miracle he could escape from this straight, "'he had but to turn his face another way, no matter where, "'and there would rise some new Avenger "'front to front with him, "'some infant in an hour-grown old, "'or old man in an hour-grown young, "'or blind man with his sight restored, "'or deaf man with his hearing given him. "'There was no chance. "'He sank down in a heap against the wall "'and never hoped again from that moment. "'I am not his friend, although I have the honor "'to be his relative,' said Mr. Chuzilwit. "'You may speak to me. "'Where have you watched and what have you seen? "'I have watched in many places,' returned Natchit. "'Night and day I have watched him lately, "'almost without rest or relief. "'His anxious face and bloodshot eyes confirmed it. "'I little thought to what my watching was to lead. "'As little as he did when he slipped out in the night, "'dressed in those clothes, "'which he afterwards sunk in a bundle at London Bridge. "'Jonas moved upon the ground "'like a man in bodily torture. "'He uttered a suppressed groan "'as if he had been wounded by some cruel weapon "'and plucked at the iron band upon his wrists "'as though his hands being free "'he would have torn himself. "'Steady Kinsman,' said the chief officer "'of the party, don't be violent. "'Whom do you call Kinsman?' asked old Martin sternly. "'You,' said the man, among others. "'Martin turned his scrutinizing gaze upon him. "'He was sitting lazily across a chair "'with his arms resting on the back, "'eating nuts and throwing the shells out of window "'as he cracked them, "'which he still continued to do while speaking. "'I,' he said with a sulky nod, "'you may deny your nephews till you die, "'but Chevy Slime is Chevy Slime still all the world over. "'Perhaps even you may feel at some disgrace "'to your own blood to be employed in this way. "'I'm to be bought off.' "'At every turn,' cried Martin, "'self, self, self, everyone among them for himself. "'You had better save one or two among them, "'the trouble, then, and be for them "'as well as yourself,' replied his nephew. "'Look here at me. "'Can you see the man of your family "'who has more talent in his little finger "'than all the rest in their united brains, "'dressed as a police officer without being ashamed? "'I took up with this trade on purpose to shame you. "'I didn't think I should have to make a capture "'in the family, though.' "'If your debauchery and that of your chosen friends "'has really brought you to this level,' returned the old man, "'keep it. "'You are living honestly, I hope, and that's something. "'Don't be hard upon my chosen friends,' returned Schleim, "'for they were sometimes your chosen friends, too. "'Don't say you never employed my friend Tigg, "'for I know better. "'Requirled upon it.' "'I hired the fellow,' retorted Mr. Chuzzlewick, "'and I paid him. "'It's well you paid him,' said his nephew, "'for it would be too late to do so now. "'He has given his receipt in full, "'or had it forced from him, rather.' "'The old man looked at him as if he were curious "'to know what he meant, "'but scorned to prolong the conversation. "'I have always expected that he and I "'would be brought together again "'in the course of business,' said Schleim, "'taking a fresh handful of nuts from his pocket. "'But I thought he would be wanted for some swindling job. "'It never entered my head that I should hold a warrant "'for the apprehension of his murderer.' "'His murderer,' cried Mr. Chuzzlewick, "'looking from one to another. "'His or Mr. Montague's,' said Natchit, "'they are the same, I am told. "'I accuse him yonder of the murder of Mr. Montague, "'who was found last night, killed in a wood. "'You will ask me why I accuse him, "'as you have already asked me how I know so much. "'I'll tell you, it can't remain a secret long.' "'The ruling passion of the man expressed itself, "'even then, in the tone of regret, "'in which he deplored the approaching publicity "'of what he knew.' "'I told you I had watched him,' he proceeded. "'I was instructed to do so by Mr. Montague "'and whose employment I have been for some time. "'We had our suspicions of him, "'and you know what they pointed at, "'for you have been discussing it "'since we have been waiting here outside the room. "'If you care to hear, now it's all over, "'in what our suspicions began, I'll tell you plainly. "'In a quarrel, it first came to our ears "'through a hint of his own, "'between him and another office "'in which his father's life was insured, "'in which had so much doubt and distrust upon the subject "'that he compounded with them "'and took half the money and was glad to do it. "'Bit by bit, I fairer to doubt "'more circumstances against him, and not a few. "'It required a little patience, but it's my calling. "'I found the nurse, here she is to confirm me. "'I found the doctor, I found the undertaker. "'I found the undertaker's man. "'I found out how the old gentleman there, "'Mr. Chuffy, had behaved at the funeral, "'and I found out what this man, touching Lusam on the arm, "'had talked about in his fever. "'I found out how he conducted himself "'before his father's death, and how since, "'and how at the time, and writing it all down "'and putting it carefully together, "'made case enough for Mr. Montague "'to tax him with the crime, "'which, as he himself believed until tonight, "'he had committed. "'I was by when this was done. "'You see him now, he is only worse than he was then. "'O miserable, miserable fool, "'o insupportable, excruciating torture, "'to find alive and active, a party to it all, "'the brain and right hand of the secret "'he had thought to crush, "'in whom, though he had walled the murdered man up "'by enchantment and a rock, "'the story would have lived and walked abroad. "'He tried to stop his ears with his fettered arms "'that he might shut out the rest. "'As he crouched upon the floor, "'they drew away from him, "'as if a pestilence were in his breath. "'They fell off one by one from that part of the room, "'leaving him alone upon the ground. "'Even those who had him in their keeping shunned him, "'and with the exception of Slime, "'who was still occupied with his nuts, "'kept apart. "'From that garret window opposite,' said Nadget, "'pointing across the narrow street, "'I have watched this house and him for days and nights. "'From that garret window opposite I saw him return home alone "'from a journey on which he had set out with Mr. Montague. "'That was my token that Mr. Montague's end was gained, "'and I might rest easy on my watch, "'though I was not to leave it until he dismissed me. "'But standing at the door opposite, "'after dark, that same night, "'I saw a countryman steal out of this house "'by a side door in the court, "'who had never entered it. "'I knew his walk and that it was himself disguised. "'I followed him immediately. "'I lost him on the western road, still traveling westward. "'Jonas looked up at him for an instant and muttered an oath. "'I could not comprehend what this meant,' said Nadget, "'but having seen so much, I resolved to see it out and through, "'and I did, learning on inquiry at his house from his wife "'that he was supposed to be sleeping in the room "'from which I had seen him go out, "'and that he had given strict orders not to be disturbed. "'I knew that he was coming back, "'and for his coming back I watched. "'I kept my watch in the street, in doorways and such places, "'all that night, at the same window all next day, "'and one night came on again in the street once more, "'for I knew he would come back as he had gone out "'when this part of the town was empty. "'He did. Early in the morning, "'the same countryman came creeping, creeping, creeping home. "'Look sharp,' interposed Slime, "'who had now finished his nuts. "'This is quite irregular, Mr. Nadget. "'I kept at the window all day,' said Nadget, "'without heeding him. "'I think I never closed my eyes. "'At night I saw him come out with a bundle. "'I followed him again. "'He went down the steps at London Bridge "'and sunk it in the river. "'I now began to entertain some serious fears "'and made a communication to the police, "'which caused that bundle to be fished up,' interrupted Slime. "'Be alive, Mr. Nadget.' "'It contained the dress I had seen him wear,' said Nadget, "'stained with clay and spotted with blood. "'Information of the murder was received in town last night. "'The wearer of that dress is already known "'to have been seen near the place, "'to have been lurking in that neighborhood, "'and to have alighted from a coach "'coming from that part of the country, "'at a time exactly tallying with the very minute "'when I saw him returning home. "'The warrant has been out, "'and these officers have been with me some hours. "'We chose our time and seeing you come in "'and seeing this person at the window.' "'Beckon to him,' said Mark, "'taking up the thread of the narrative "'on hearing this allusion to himself, "'to open the door, which he did with a deal of pleasure. "'That's all at present,' said Nadget, "'putting up his great pocket-book, "'which from mere habit he had produced "'when he began his revelation, "'and had kept it in his hand all the time. "'But there is plenty more to come. "'You asked me for the facts, "'so far I have related them, "'and need not detain these gentlemen any longer. "'Are you ready, Mr. Slime?' "'And something more,' replied that, worthy, rising. "'If you walk round to the office, "'we shall be there as soon as you. "'Tom, get a coach.' "'The officer to whom he spoke departed for that purpose. "'Old Martin lingered for a few moments "'as if he would have addressed some words to Jonas. "'But looking round and seeing him still seated on the floor, "'rocking himself in a savage manner to and fro, "'took Chuffy's arm and slowly followed Nadget out. "'John Westlock and Mark Tapley accompanied them. "'Mrs. Gamp had tottered out first "'for the better display of her feelings "'in a kind of walking swoon, "'for Mrs. Gamp performed swoons of different sorts "'upon a moderate notice, as Mr. Mould did funerals. "'Ha!' muttered Slime, looking after them, "'upon my soul, as insensible of being disgraced "'by having such a nephew as myself in such a situation "'as he was of my being an honor and a credit "'to the family. "'That's the return I get for having humbled my spirit, "'such a spirit as mine, to earn a livelihood, is it? "'He got up from his chair and kicked it away indignantly. "'It's such a livelihood, too. "'When there are hundreds of men not fit to hold a candle to me, "'rolling in carriages and living on their fortunes, "'upon my soul, it's a nice world.' "'His eyes encountered Jonas, "'who looked earnestly towards him "'and moved his lips as if he were whispering. "'A,' said Slime. "'Jonas glanced at the attendant whose back was towards him "'and made a clumsy motion with his bound hands "'towards the door. "'Humph!' said Slime thoughtfully. "'I couldn't hope to disgrace him into anything "'when you have shot so far ahead of me, though. "'I forgot that.' "'Jonas repeated the same look in gesture. "'Jack?' said Slime. "'Hello,' returned his man. "'Go down to the door, ready for the coach. "'Call out when it comes. "'I'd rather have you there.' "'Now, then,' he added, turning hastily to Jonas "'when the man was gone. "'What's the matter?' "'Jonas assayed to rise. "'Stop a bit,' said Slime. "'It's not so easy when your wrists are tight together. "'Now, then. "'Up, what is it?' "'Put your hand in my pocket. "'Here.' "'The breast pocket on the left,' said Jonas. "'He did so and drew out a purse. "'There's a hundred pound in it,' said Jonas, "'whose words were almost unintelligible, "'as his face, in its pallor and agony, was scarcely human. "'Slime looked at him, gave it into his hands, "'and shook his head. "'I can't. "'I daren't. "'I couldn't if I dared. "'Those fellows below?' "'Escapes impossible,' said Jonas. "'I know it. "'One hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room.' "'What to do?' he asked. "'The face of his prisoner, "'as he advanced to whisper in his ear, "'made him recoil involuntarily. "'But he stopped and listened to him. "'The words were few, but his own face changed "'as he heard them. "'I have it about me,' said Jonas, "'putting his hands to his throat, "'as though whatever he referred to "'were hidden in his neckerchief. "'How should you know of it? "'How could you know? "'A hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room. "'The time's passing. Speak.' "'It would be more creditable to the family,' "'observed Slime, with trembling lips. "'I wish you hadn't told me half so much. "'Less would have served your purpose. "'You might have kept it to yourself. "'A hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room. "'Speak,' cried Jonas, desperately. "'He took the purse. "'Jonas, with a wild, unsteady step, "'retreated to the door in the glass partition. "'Stop,' cried Slime, catching at his skirts. "'I don't know about this. "'Yet it must end so at last. "'Are you guilty?' "'Yes,' said Jonas. "'Are the proofs as they were told just now?' "'Yes,' said Jonas. "'Will you engage to say a prayer now "'or something of that sort?' faltered Slime. "'Jonas broke from him without replying "'and closed the door between them. "'Slime listened at the keyhole. "'After that he crept away on tiptoe, "'as far off as he could, "'and looked awfully towards the place. "'He was roused by the arrival of the coach "'and they're letting down the steps. "'He's getting a few things together,' he said, "'leaning out of window "'and speaking to the two men below "'who stood in the full light of a street lamp. "'Keep your eye upon the back, "'one of you, for form's sake. "'One of the men withdrew into the court. "'The other, seating himself on the steps of the coach, "'remained in conversation with Slime at the window, "'who perhaps had risen to be his superior "'and virtue of his old propensity, "'one so much lauded by the murdered man "'of being always round the corner, "'a useful habit in his present calling. "'Where is he?' asked the man. "'Slime looked into the room for an instant "'and gave his head a jerk as much as to say, "'close at hand, I see him. "'He's booked,' observed the man, "'through,' said Slime. "'They looked at each other and up and down the street. "'The man on the coach steps took his head off "'and put it on again and whistled a little. "'I say, he's taking his time,' he remonstrated. "'I allowed him five minutes,' said Slime. "'Times more than up, though. "'I'll bring him down.' "'He withdrew from the window accordingly "'and walked on tiptoe to the door in the partition. "'He listened. "'There was not a sound within. "'He set the candles near it "'that they might shine through the glass. "'It was not easy,' he found, "'to make up his mind to the opening of the door, "'but he flung it wide open suddenly "'and with a noise, then retreated. "'After peeping in and listening again, he entered. "'He started back as his eyes met those of Jonas, "'standing in an angle of the wall and staring at him. "'His necrotip was off, his face was ashy pale. "'You're too soon,' said Jonas, with an abject whimper. "'I've not had time. "'I have not been able to do it. "'Five minutes more, two minutes more, only one.' "'Slime gave him no reply, but thrusting the purse upon him "'and forcing it back into his pocket, called up his men. "'He whined and cried and cursed and entreated them "'and struggled and submitted in the same breath "'and had no power to stand. "'They got him away and into the coach, "'where they put him on a seat, "'but he soon fell moaning down among the straw "'at the bottom and lay there. "'The two men were with him, "'Slime being on the box with the driver, "'and they let him lie. "'Happening to pass the fruiterers on their way, "'the door of which was open, "'though the shop was by this time shut, "'one of them remarked how faint the peaches smelled. "'The other assented at the moment, "'but presently stooped down in quick alarm "'and looked at the prisoner. "'Stop the coach. "'He has poisoned himself. "'The smell comes from this bottle in his hand. "'The hand had shut upon it tight, "'with that rigidity of grasp, "'with which no living man "'in the full strength and energy of life "'can clutch a prize he has won. "'They dragged him out into the dark street, "'but jury, judge, and hangman "'could have done no more "'and could do nothing now. "'Dead, dead, dead.'" End of chapter 51.