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preparing to retire. 'It relates to a dealer in curiosities with whom

he lived, and in whom I am earnestly and warmly interested. I have

been a stranger to this country, gentlemen, for very many years, and if

I am deficient in form and ceremony, I hope you will forgive me.'

'No forgiveness is necessary, sir;--none whatever,' replied the Notary.

And so said Mr Abel.

'I have been making inquiries in the neighbourhood in which his old

master lived,' said the stranger, 'and I learn that he was served by

this lad. I have found out his mother's house, and have been directed

by her to this place as the nearest in which I should be likely to find

him. That's the cause of my presenting myself here this morning.'

'I am very glad of any cause, sir,' said the Notary, 'which procures me

the honour of this visit.'

'Sir,' retorted the stranger, 'you speak like a mere man of the world,

and I think you something better. Therefore, pray do not sink your

real character in paying unmeaning compliments to me.'

'Hem!' coughed the Notary. 'You're a plain speaker, sir.'

'And a plain dealer,' returned the stranger. 'It may be my long

absence and inexperience that lead me to the conclusion; but if plain

speakers are scarce in this part of the world, I fancy plain dealers

are still scarcer. If my speaking should offend you, sir, my dealing,

I hope, will make amends.'

Mr Witherden seemed a little disconcerted by the elderly gentleman's

mode of conducting the dialogue; and as for Kit, he looked at him in

open-mouthed astonishment: wondering what kind of language he would

address to him, if he talked in that free and easy way to a Notary. It

was with no harshness, however, though with something of constitutional

irritability and haste, that he turned to Kit and said:

'If you think, my lad, that I am pursuing these inquiries with any

other view than that of serving and reclaiming those I am in search of,

you do me a very great wrong, and deceive yourself. Don't be deceived,

I beg of you, but rely upon my assurance. The fact is, gentlemen,' he

added, turning again to the Notary and his pupil, 'that I am in a very

painful and wholly unexpected position. I came to this city with a

darling object at my heart, expecting to find no obstacle or difficulty

in the way of its attainment. I find myself suddenly checked and

stopped short, in the execution of my design, by a mystery which I

cannot penetrate. Every effort I have made to penetrate it, has only

served to render it darker and more obscure; and I am afraid to stir

openly in the matter, lest those whom I anxiously pursue, should fly

still farther from me. I assure you that if you could give me any

assistance, you would not be sorry to do so, if you knew how greatly I

stand in need of it, and what a load it would relieve me from.'

There was a simplicity in this confidence which occasioned it to find a

quick response in the breast of the good-natured Notary, who replied,

in the same spirit, that the stranger had not mistaken his desire, and

that if he could be of service to him, he would, most readily.

Kit was then put under examination and closely questioned by the

unknown gentleman, touching his old master and the child, their lonely

way of life, their retired habits, and strict seclusion. The nightly

absence of the old man, the solitary existence of the child at those

times, his illness and recovery, Quilp's possession of the house, and

their sudden disappearance, were all the subjects of much questioning

and answer. Finally, Kit informed the gentleman that the premises were

now to let, and that a board upon the door referred all inquirers to Mr

Sampson Brass, Solicitor, of Bevis Marks, from whom he might perhaps

learn some further particulars.

'Not by inquiry,' said the gentleman shaking his head. 'I live there.'

'Live at Brass's the attorney's!' cried Mr Witherden in some surprise:

having professional knowledge of the gentleman in question.

'Aye,' was the reply. 'I entered on his lodgings t'other day, chiefly

because I had seen this very board. It matters little to me where I

live, and I had a desperate hope that some intelligence might be cast

in my way there, which would not reach me elsewhere. Yes, I live at

Brass's--more shame for me, I suppose?'

'That's a mere matter of opinion,' said the Notary, shrugging his

shoulders. 'He is looked upon as rather a doubtful character.'

'Doubtful?' echoed the other. 'I am glad to hear there's any doubt

about it. I supposed that had been thoroughly settled, long ago. But

will you let me speak a word or two with you in private?'

Mr Witherden consenting, they walked into that gentleman's private

closet, and remained there, in close conversation, for some quarter of

an hour, when they returned into the outer office. The stranger had

left his hat in Mr Witherden's room, and seemed to have established

himself in this short interval on quite a friendly footing.

'I'll not detain you any longer now,' he said, putting a crown into

Kit's hand, and looking towards the Notary. 'You shall hear from me

again. Not a word of this, you know, except to your master and

mistress.'

'Mother, sir, would be glad to know--' said Kit, faltering.

'Glad to know what?'

'Anything--so that it was no harm--about Miss Nell.'

'Would she? Well then, you may tell her if she can keep a secret. But

mind, not a word of this to anybody else. Don't forget that. Be

particular.'

'I'll take care, sir,' said Kit. 'Thankee, sir, and good morning.'

Now, it happened that the gentleman, in his anxiety to impress upon Kit

that he was not to tell anybody what had passed between them, followed

him out to the door to repeat his caution, and it further happened that

at that moment the eyes of Mr Richard Swiveller were turned in that

direction, and beheld his mysterious friend and Kit together.

It was quite an accident, and the way in which it came about was this.

Mr Chuckster, being a gentleman of a cultivated taste and refined

spirit, was one of that Lodge of Glorious Apollos whereof Mr Swiveller

was Perpetual Grand. Mr Swiveller, passing through the street in the

execution of some Brazen errand, and beholding one of his Glorious

Brotherhood intently gazing on a pony, crossed over to give him that

fraternal greeting with which Perpetual Grands are, by the very

constitution of their office, bound to cheer and encourage their

disciples. He had scarcely bestowed upon him his blessing, and

followed it with a general remark touching the present state and

prospects of the weather, when, lifting up his eyes, he beheld the

single gentleman of Bevis Marks in earnest conversation with

Christopher Nubbles.

'Hallo!' said Dick, 'who is that?'

'He called to see my Governor this morning,' replied Mr Chuckster;

'beyond that, I don't know him from Adam.'

'At least you know his name?' said Dick.

To which Mr Chuckster replied, with an elevation of speech becoming a

Glorious Apollo, that he was 'everlastingly blessed' if he did.

'All I know, my dear feller,' said Mr Chuckster, running his fingers

through his hair, 'is, that he is the cause of my having stood here

twenty minutes, for which I hate him with a mortal and undying hatred,

and would pursue him to the confines of eternity if I could afford the

time.'

While they were thus discoursing, the subject of their conversation

(who had not appeared to recognise Mr Richard Swiveller) re-entered the

house, and Kit came down the steps and joined them; to whom Mr

Swiveller again propounded his inquiry with no better success.

'He is a very nice gentleman, Sir,' said Kit, 'and that's all I know

about him.'

Mr Chuckster waxed wroth at this answer, and without applying the

remark to any particular case, mentioned, as a general truth, that it

was expedient to break the heads of Snobs, and to tweak their noses.

Without expressing his concurrence in this sentiment, Mr Swiveller

after a few moments of abstraction inquired which way Kit was driving,

and, being informed, declared it was his way, and that he would

trespass on him for a lift. Kit would gladly have declined the

proffered honour, but as Mr Swiveller was already established in the

seat beside him, he had no means of doing so, otherwise than by a

forcible ejectment, and therefore, drove briskly off--so briskly

indeed, as to cut short the leave-taking between Mr Chuckster and his

Grand Master, and to occasion the former gentleman some inconvenience

from having his corns squeezed by the impatient pony.

As Whisker was tired of standing, and Mr Swiveller was kind enough to

stimulate him by shrill whistles, and various sporting cries, they

rattled off at too sharp a pace to admit of much conversation:

especially as the pony, incensed by Mr Swiveller's admonitions, took a

particular fancy for the lamp-posts and cart-wheels, and evinced a

strong desire to run on the pavement and rasp himself against the brick

walls. It was not, therefore, until they had arrived at the stable,

and the chaise had been extricated from a very small doorway, into

which the pony dragged it under the impression that he could take it

along with him into his usual stall, that Mr Swiveller found time to

talk.

'It's hard work,' said Richard. 'What do you say to some beer?'

Kit at first declined, but presently consented, and they adjourned to

the neighbouring bar together.

'We'll drink our friend what's-his-name,' said Dick, holding up the

bright frothy pot; '--that was talking to you this morning, you know--I

know him--a good fellow, but eccentric--very--here's what's-his-name!'

Kit pledged him.

'He lives in my house,' said Dick; 'at least in the house occupied by

the firm in which I'm a sort of a--of a managing partner--a difficult

fellow to get anything out of, but we like him--we like him.'

'I must be going, sir, if you please,' said Kit, moving away.

'Don't be in a hurry, Christopher,' replied his patron, 'we'll drink

your mother.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'An excellent woman that mother of yours, Christopher,' said Mr

Swiveller. 'Who ran to catch me when I fell, and kissed the place to

make it well? My mother. A charming woman. He's a liberal sort of

fellow. We must get him to do something for your mother. Does he know

her, Christopher?'

Kit shook his head, and glancing slyly at his questioner, thanked him,

and made off before he could say another word.

'Humph!' said Mr Swiveller pondering, 'this is queer. Nothing but

mysteries in connection with Brass's house. I'll keep my own counsel,

however. Everybody and anybody has been in my confidence as yet, but

now I think I'll set up in business for myself. Queer--very queer!'

After pondering deeply and with a face of exceeding wisdom for some

time, Mr Swiveller drank some more of the beer, and summoning a small

boy who had been watching his proceedings, poured forth the few

remaining drops as a libation on the gravel, and bade him carry the

empty vessel to the bar with his compliments, and above all things to

lead a sober and temperate life, and abstain from all intoxicating and

exciting liquors. Having given him this piece of moral advice for his

trouble (which, as he wisely observed, was far better than half-pence)

the Perpetual Grand Master of the Glorious Apollos thrust his hands

into his pockets and sauntered away: still pondering as he went.

CHAPTER 39

All that day, though he waited for Mr Abel until evening, Kit kept

clear of his mother's house, determined not to anticipate the pleasures

of the morrow, but to let them come in their full rush of delight; for

to-morrow was the great and long looked-for epoch in his

life--to-morrow was the end of his first quarter--the day of receiving,

for the first time, one fourth part of his annual income of Six Pounds

in one vast sum of Thirty Shillings--to-morrow was to be a half-holiday

devoted to a whirl of entertainments, and little Jacob was to know what

oysters meant, and to see a play.

All manner of incidents combined in favour of the occasion: not only

had Mr and Mrs Garland forewarned him that they intended to make no

deduction for his outfit from the great amount, but to pay it him

unbroken in all its gigantic grandeur; not only had the unknown

gentleman increased the stock by the sum of five shillings, which was a

perfect god-send and in itself a fortune; not only had these things

come to pass which nobody could have calculated upon, or in their

wildest dreams have hoped; but it was Barbara's quarter too--Barbara's

quarter, that very day--and Barbara had a half-holiday as well as Kit,

and Barbara's mother was going to make one of the party, and to take

tea with Kit's mother, and cultivate her acquaintance.

To be sure Kit looked out of his window very early that morning to see

which way the clouds were flying, and to be sure Barbara would have

been at hers too, if she had not sat up so late over-night, starching

and ironing small pieces of muslin, and crimping them into frills, and

sewing them on to other pieces to form magnificent wholes for next

day's wear. But they were both up very early for all that, and had

small appetites for breakfast and less for dinner, and were in a state

of great excitement when Barbara's mother came in, with astonishing

accounts of the fineness of the weather out of doors (but with a very

large umbrella notwithstanding, for people like Barbara's mother seldom