be frightened, Mrs. Bardell. There never was a more delicate man than
Dodson, ma'am, or a more humane man than Fogg. It was their duty in the
way of business, to take you in execution for them costs; but they were
anxious to spare your feelings as much as they could. What a comfort it
must be, to you, to think how it's been done! This is the Fleet, ma'am.
Wish you good-night, Mrs. Bardell. Good-night, Tommy!'
As Jackson hurried away in company with the man with the ash stick
another man, with a key in his hand, who had been looking on, led
the bewildered female to a second short flight of steps leading to a
doorway. Mrs. Bardell screamed violently; Tommy roared; Mrs. Cluppins
shrunk within herself; and Mrs. Sanders made off, without more ado. For
there stood the injured Mr. Pickwick, taking his nightly allowance of
air; and beside him leant Samuel Weller, who, seeing Mrs. Bardell, took
his hat off with mock reverence, while his master turned indignantly on
his heel.
'Don't bother the woman,' said the turnkey to Weller; 'she's just come
in.'
'A prisoner!' said Sam, quickly replacing his hat. 'Who's the
plaintives? What for? Speak up, old feller.'
'Dodson and Fogg,' replied the man; 'execution on COGNOVIT for costs.'
'Here, Job, Job!' shouted Sam, dashing into the passage. 'Run to Mr.
Perker's, Job. I want him directly. I see some good in this. Here's a
game. Hooray! vere's the gov'nor?'
But there was no reply to these inquiries, for Job had started furiously
off, the instant he received his commission, and Mrs. Bardell had
fainted in real downright earnest.
CHAPTER XLVII. IS CHIEFLY DEVOTED TO MATTERS OF BUSINESS, AND THE
TEMPORAL ADVANTAGE OF DODSON AND FOGG--Mr. WINKLE REAPPEARS UNDER
EXTRAORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES--Mr. PICKWICK'S BENEVOLENCE PROVES STRONGER
THAN HIS OBSTINACY
Job Trotter, abating nothing of his speed, ran up Holborn, sometimes
in the middle of the road, sometimes on the pavement, sometimes in the
gutter, as the chances of getting along varied with the press of men,
women, children, and coaches, in each division of the thoroughfare, and,
regardless of all obstacles stopped not for an instant until he reached
the gate of Gray's Inn. Notwithstanding all the expedition he had used,
however, the gate had been closed a good half-hour when he reached it,
and by the time he had discovered Mr. Perker's laundress, who lived
with a married daughter, who had bestowed her hand upon a non-resident
waiter, who occupied the one-pair of some number in some street closely
adjoining to some brewery somewhere behind Gray's Inn Lane, it was
within fifteen minutes of closing the prison for the night. Mr. Lowten
had still to be ferreted out from the back parlour of the Magpie and
Stump; and Job had scarcely accomplished this object, and communicated
Sam Weller's message, when the clock struck ten.
'There,' said Lowten, 'it's too late now. You can't get in to-night;
you've got the key of the street, my friend.'
'Never mind me,' replied Job. 'I can sleep anywhere. But won't it be
better to see Mr. Perker to-night, so that we may be there, the first
thing in the morning?'
'Why,' responded Lowten, after a little consideration, 'if it was in
anybody else's case, Perker wouldn't be best pleased at my going up to
his house; but as it's Mr. Pickwick's, I think I may venture to take a
cab and charge it to the office.' Deciding on this line of conduct, Mr.
Lowten took up his hat, and begging the assembled company to appoint a
deputy-chairman during his temporary absence, led the way to the nearest
coach-stand. Summoning the cab of most promising appearance, he directed
the driver to repair to Montague Place, Russell Square.
Mr. Perker had had a dinner-party that day, as was testified by the
appearance of lights in the drawing-room windows, the sound of an
improved grand piano, and an improvable cabinet voice issuing therefrom,
and a rather overpowering smell of meat which pervaded the steps and
entry. In fact, a couple of very good country agencies happening to come
up to town, at the same time, an agreeable little party had been got
together to meet them, comprising Mr. Snicks, the Life Office Secretary,
Mr. Prosee, the eminent counsel, three solicitors, one commissioner of
bankrupts, a special pleader from the Temple, a small-eyed peremptory
young gentleman, his pupil, who had written a lively book about the law
of demises, with a vast quantity of marginal notes and references; and
several other eminent and distinguished personages. From this society,
little Mr. Perker detached himself, on his clerk being announced in a
whisper; and repairing to the dining-room, there found Mr. Lowten and
Job Trotter looking very dim and shadowy by the light of a kitchen
candle, which the gentleman who condescended to appear in plush shorts
and cottons for a quarterly stipend, had, with a becoming contempt for
the clerk and all things appertaining to 'the office,' placed upon the
table.
'Now, Lowten,' said little Mr. Perker, shutting the door,'what's the
matter? No important letter come in a parcel, is there?'
'No, Sir,' replied Lowten. 'This is a messenger from Mr. Pickwick, Sir.'
'From Pickwick, eh?' said the little man, turning quickly to Job. 'Well,
what is it?'
'Dodson and Fogg have taken Mrs. Bardell in execution for her costs,
Sir,' said Job.
'No!' exclaimed Perker, putting his hands in his pockets, and reclining
against the sideboard.
'Yes,' said Job. 'It seems they got a cognovit out of her, for the
amount of 'em, directly after the trial.'
'By Jove!' said Perker, taking both hands out of his pockets, and
striking the knuckles of his right against the palm of his left,
emphatically, 'those are the cleverest scamps I ever had anything to do
with!'
'The sharpest practitioners I ever knew, Sir,' observed Lowten.
'Sharp!' echoed Perker. 'There's no knowing where to have them.'
'Very true, Sir, there is not,' replied Lowten; and then, both master
and man pondered for a few seconds, with animated countenances, as
if they were reflecting upon one of the most beautiful and ingenious
discoveries that the intellect of man had ever made. When they had in
some measure recovered from their trance of admiration, Job Trotter
discharged himself of the rest of his commission. Perker nodded his head
thoughtfully, and pulled out his watch.
'At ten precisely, I will be there,' said the little man. 'Sam is quite
right. Tell him so. Will you take a glass of wine, Lowten?' 'No, thank
you, Sir.'
'You mean yes, I think,' said the little man, turning to the sideboard
for a decanter and glasses.
As Lowten DID mean yes, he said no more on the subject, but inquired of
Job, in an audible whisper, whether the portrait of Perker, which hung
opposite the fireplace, wasn't a wonderful likeness, to which Job of
course replied that it was. The wine being by this time poured out,
Lowten drank to Mrs. Perker and the children, and Job to Perker. The
gentleman in the plush shorts and cottons considering it no part of his
duty to show the people from the office out, consistently declined to
answer the bell, and they showed themselves out. The attorney betook
himself to his drawing-room, the clerk to the Magpie and Stump, and Job
to Covent Garden Market to spend the night in a vegetable basket.
Punctually at the appointed hour next morning, the good-humoured little
attorney tapped at Mr. Pickwick's door, which was opened with great
alacrity by Sam Weller.
'Mr. Perker, sir,' said Sam, announcing the visitor to Mr. Pickwick, who
was sitting at the window in a thoughtful attitude. 'Wery glad you've
looked in accidentally, Sir. I rather think the gov'nor wants to have a
word and a half with you, Sir.'
Perker bestowed a look of intelligence on Sam, intimating that he
understood he was not to say he had been sent for; and beckoning him to
approach, whispered briefly in his ear.
'You don't mean that 'ere, Sir?' said Sam, starting back in excessive
surprise.
Perker nodded and smiled.
Mr. Samuel Weller looked at the little lawyer, then at Mr. Pickwick,
then at the ceiling, then at Perker again; grinned, laughed outright,
and finally, catching up his hat from the carpet, without further
explanation, disappeared.
'What does this mean?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, looking at Perker with
astonishment. 'What has put Sam into this extraordinary state?'
'Oh, nothing, nothing,' replied Perker. 'Come, my dear Sir, draw up your
chair to the table. I have a good deal to say to you.'
'What papers are those?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, as the little man
deposited on the table a small bundle of documents tied with red tape.
'The papers in Bardell and Pickwick,' replied Perker, undoing the knot
with his teeth.
Mr. Pickwick grated the legs of his chair against the ground; and
throwing himself into it, folded his hands and looked sternly--if Mr.
Pickwick ever could look sternly--at his legal friend.
'You don't like to hear the name of the cause?' said the little man,
still busying himself with the knot.
'No, I do not indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick.
'Sorry for that,' resumed Perker, 'because it will form the subject of
our conversation.'
'I would rather that the subject should be never mentioned between us,
Perker,' interposed Mr. Pickwick hastily.
'Pooh, pooh, my dear Sir,' said the little man, untying the bundle, and
glancing eagerly at Mr. Pickwick out of the corners of his eyes. 'It
must be mentioned. I have come here on purpose. Now, are you ready to
hear what I have to say, my dear Sir? No hurry; if you are not, I can
wait. I have this morning's paper here. Your time shall be mine. There!'
Hereupon, the little man threw one leg over the other, and made a show
of beginning to read with great composure and application.
'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a sigh, but softening into a
smile at the same time. 'Say what you have to say; it's the old story, I
suppose?'
'With a difference, my dear Sir; with a difference,' rejoined Perker,
deliberately folding up the paper and putting it into his pocket again.
'Mrs. Bardell, the plaintiff in the action, is within these walls, Sir.'
'I know it,' was Mr. Pickwick's reply.
'Very good,' retorted Perker. 'And you know how she comes here, I
suppose; I mean on what grounds, and at whose suit?'
'Yes; at least I have heard Sam's account of the matter,' said Mr.
Pickwick, with affected carelessness.
'Sam's account of the matter,' replied Perker, 'is, I will venture to
say, a perfectly correct one. Well now, my dear Sir, the first question
I have to ask, is, whether this woman is to remain here?'
'To remain here!' echoed Mr. Pickwick.
'To remain here, my dear Sir,' rejoined Perker, leaning back in his
chair and looking steadily at his client.
'How can you ask me?' said that gentleman. 'It rests with Dodson and
Fogg; you know that very well.'
'I know nothing of the kind,' retorted Perker firmly. 'It does NOT rest
with Dodson and Fogg; you know the men, my dear Sir, as well as I do. It
rests solely, wholly, and entirely with you.'
'With me!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, rising nervously from his chair, and
reseating himself directly afterwards.
The little man gave a double-knock on the lid of his snuff-box, opened
it, took a great pinch, shut it up again, and repeated the words, 'With
you.'
'I say, my dear Sir,' resumed the little man, who seemed to gather
confidence from the snuff--'I say, that her speedy liberation or
perpetual imprisonment rests with you, and with you alone. Hear me out,
my dear Sir, if you please, and do not be so very energetic, for it
will only put you into a perspiration and do no good whatever. I say,'
continued Perker, checking off each position on a different finger, as
he laid it down--'I say that nobody but you can rescue her from this den
of wretchedness; and that you can only do that, by paying the costs
of this suit--both of plaintive and defendant--into the hands of these
Freeman Court sharks. Now pray be quiet, my dear sir.'
Mr. Pickwick, whose face had been undergoing most surprising changes
during this speech, and was evidently on the verge of a strong burst of
indignation, calmed his wrath as well as he could. Perker, strengthening
his argumentative powers with another pinch of snuff, proceeded--
'I have seen the woman, this morning. By paying the costs, you can
obtain a full release and discharge from the damages; and further--this
I know is a far greater object of consideration with you, my dear sir--a
voluntary statement, under her hand, in the form of a letter to me, that
this business was, from the very first, fomented, and encouraged, and
brought about, by these men, Dodson and Fogg; that she deeply regrets
ever having been the instrument of annoyance or injury to you; and that
she entreats me to intercede with you, and implore your pardon.'
'If I pay her costs for her,' said Mr. Pickwick indignantly. 'A valuable
document, indeed!'
'No "if" in the case, my dear Sir,' said Perker triumphantly. 'There
is the very letter I speak of. Brought to my office by another woman at
nine o'clock this morning, before I had set foot in this place, or held
any communication with Mrs. Bardell, upon my honour.' Selecting the
