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The wretched Sampson took a few short sips of the liquor, which

immediately distilled itself into burning tears, and in that form came

rolling down his cheeks into the pipkin again, turning the colour of

his face and eyelids to a deep red, and giving rise to a violent fit of

coughing, in the midst of which he was still heard to declare, with the

constancy of a martyr, that it was 'beautiful indeed!' While he was

yet in unspeakable agonies, the dwarf renewed their conversation.

'The lodger,' said Quilp, '--what about him?'

'He is still, sir,'

returned Brass, with intervals of coughing, 'stopping with the Garland

family. He has only been home once, Sir, since the day of the

examination of that culprit. He informed Mr Richard, sir, that he

couldn't bear the house after what had taken place; that he was

wretched in it; and that he looked upon himself as being in a certain

kind of way the cause of the occurrence.--A very excellent lodger Sir.

I hope we may not lose him.'

'Yah!' cried the dwarf. 'Never thinking of anybody but yourself--why

don't you retrench then--scrape up, hoard, economise, eh?'

'Why, sir,' replied Brass, 'upon my word I think Sarah's as good an

economiser as any going. I do indeed, Mr Quilp.'

'Moisten your clay, wet the other eye, drink, man!' cried the dwarf.

'You took a clerk to oblige me.'

'Delighted, sir, I am sure, at any time,' replied Sampson. 'Yes, Sir,

I did.'

'Then now you may discharge him,' said Quilp. 'There's a means of

retrenchment for you at once.'

'Discharge Mr Richard, sir?' cried Brass.

'Have you more than one clerk, you parrot, that you ask the question?

Yes.'

'Upon my word, Sir,' said Brass, 'I wasn't prepared for this--'

'How could you be?' sneered the dwarf, 'when I wasn't? How often am I

to tell you that I brought him to you that I might always have my eye

on him and know where he was--and that I had a plot, a scheme, a little

quiet piece of enjoyment afoot, of which the very cream and essence

was, that this old man and grandchild (who have sunk underground I

think) should be, while he and his precious friend believed them rich,

in reality as poor as frozen rats?'

'I quite understood that, sir,' rejoined Brass. 'Thoroughly.'

'Well, Sir,' retorted Quilp, 'and do you understand now, that they're

not poor--that they can't be, if they have such men as your lodger

searching for them, and scouring the country far and wide?'

'Of course I do, Sir,' said Sampson.

'Of course you do,' retorted the dwarf, viciously snapping at his

words. 'Of course do you understand then, that it's no matter what

comes of this fellow? of course do you understand that for any other

purpose he's no man for me, nor for you?'

'I have frequently said to Sarah, sir,' returned Brass, 'that he was of

no use at all in the business. You can't put any confidence in him,

sir. If you'll believe me I've found that fellow, in the commonest

little matters of the office that have been trusted to him, blurting

out the truth, though expressly cautioned. The aggravation of that

chap sir, has exceeded anything you can imagine, it has indeed.

Nothing but the respect and obligation I owe to you, sir--'

As it was plain that Sampson was bent on a complimentary harangue,

unless he received a timely interruption, Mr Quilp politely tapped him

on the crown of his head with the little saucepan, and requested that

he would be so obliging as to hold his peace.

'Practical, sir, practical,' said Brass, rubbing the place and smiling;

'but still extremely pleasant--immensely so!'

'Hearken to me, will you?' returned Quilp, 'or I'll be a little more

pleasant, presently. There's no chance of his comrade and friend

returning. The scamp has been obliged to fly, as I learn, for some

knavery, and has found his way abroad. Let him rot there.'

'Certainly, sir. Quite proper.--Forcible!' cried Brass, glancing at

the admiral again, as if he made a third in company. 'Extremely

forcible!'

'I hate him,' said Quilp between his teeth, 'and have always hated him,

for family reasons. Besides, he was an intractable ruffian; otherwise

he would have been of use. This fellow is pigeon-hearted and

light-headed. I don't want him any longer. Let him hang or

drown--starve--go to the devil.'

'By all means, sir,' returned Brass. 'When would you wish him, sir,

to--ha, ha!--to make that little excursion?'

'When this trial's over,' said Quilp. 'As soon as that's ended, send

him about his business.'

'It shall be done, sir,' returned Brass; 'by all means. It will be

rather a blow to Sarah, sir, but she has all her feelings under

control. Ah, Mr Quilp, I often think, sir, if it had only pleased

Providence to bring you and Sarah together, in earlier life, what

blessed results would have flowed from such a union! You never saw our

dear father, sir?--A charming gentleman. Sarah was his pride and joy,

sir. He would have closed his eyes in bliss, would Foxey, Mr Quilp, if

he could have found her such a partner. You esteem her, sir?'

'I love her,' croaked the dwarf.

'You're very good, Sir,' returned Brass, 'I am sure. Is there any

other order, sir, that I can take a note of, besides this little matter

of Mr Richard?'

'None,' replied the dwarf, seizing the saucepan. 'Let us drink the

lovely Sarah.'

'If we could do it in something, sir, that wasn't quite boiling,'

suggested Brass humbly, 'perhaps it would be better. I think it will

be more agreeable to Sarah's feelings, when she comes to hear from me

of the honour you have done her, if she learns it was in liquor rather

cooler than the last, Sir.'

But to these remonstrances, Mr Quilp turned a deaf ear. Sampson Brass,

who was, by this time, anything but sober, being compelled to take

further draughts of the same strong bowl, found that, instead of at all

contributing to his recovery, they had the novel effect of making the

counting-house spin round and round with extreme velocity, and causing

the floor and ceiling to heave in a very distressing manner. After a

brief stupor, he awoke to a consciousness of being partly under the

table and partly under the grate. This position not being the most

comfortable one he could have chosen for himself, he managed to stagger

to his feet, and, holding on by the admiral, looked round for his host.

Mr Brass's first impression was, that his host was gone and had left

him there alone--perhaps locked him in for the night. A strong smell

of tobacco, however, suggested a new train of ideas, he looked upward,

and saw that the dwarf was smoking in his hammock.

'Good bye, Sir,' cried Brass faintly. 'Good bye, Sir.'

'Won't you stop all night?' said the dwarf, peeping out. 'Do stop all

night!'

'I couldn't indeed, Sir,' replied Brass, who was almost dead from

nausea and the closeness of the room. 'If you'd have the goodness to

show me a light, so that I may see my way across the yard, sir--'

Quilp was out in an instant; not with his legs first, or his head

first, or his arms first, but bodily--altogether.

'To be sure,' he said, taking up a lantern, which was now the only

light in the place. 'Be careful how you go, my dear friend. Be sure

to pick your way among the timber, for all the rusty nails are upwards.

There's a dog in the lane. He bit a man last night, and a woman the

night before, and last Tuesday he killed a child--but that was in play.

Don't go too near him.'

'Which side of the road is he, sir?' asked Brass, in great dismay.

'He lives on the right hand,' said Quilp, 'but sometimes he hides on

the left, ready for a spring. He's uncertain in that respect. Mind

you take care of yourself. I'll never forgive you if you don't.

There's the light out--never mind--you know the way--straight on!'

Quilp had slily shaded the light by holding it against his breast, and

now stood chuckling and shaking from head to foot in a rapture of

delight, as he heard the lawyer stumbling up the yard, and now and then

falling heavily down. At length, however, he got quit of the place,

and was out of hearing.

The dwarf shut himself up again, and sprang once more into his hammock.

CHAPTER 63

The professional gentleman who had given Kit the consolatory piece of

information relative to the settlement of his trifle of business at the

Old Bailey, and the probability of its being very soon disposed of,

turned out to be quite correct in his prognostications. In eight days'

time, the sessions commenced. In one day afterwards, the Grand Jury

found a True Bill against Christopher Nubbles for felony; and in two

days from that finding, the aforesaid Christopher Nubbles was called

upon to plead Guilty or Not Guilty to an Indictment for that he the

said Christopher did feloniously abstract and steal from the

dwelling-house and office of one Sampson Brass, gentleman, one Bank

Note for Five Pounds issued by the Governor and Company of the Bank of

England; in contravention of the Statutes in that case made and

provided, and against the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King, his

crown and dignity.

To this indictment, Christopher Nubbles, in a low and trembling voice,

pleaded Not Guilty; and here, let those who are in the habit of forming

hasty judgments from appearances, and who would have had Christopher,

if innocent, speak out very strong and loud, observe, that confinement

and anxiety will subdue the stoutest hearts; and that to one who has

been close shut up, though it be only for ten or eleven days, seeing

but stone walls and a very few stony faces, the sudden entrance into a

great hall filled with life, is a rather disconcerting and startling

circumstance. To this, it must be added, that life in a wig is to a

large class of people much more terrifying and impressive than life

with its own head of hair; and if, in addition to these considerations,

there be taken into account Kit's natural emotion on seeing the two Mr

Garlands and the little Notary looking on with pale and anxious faces,

it will perhaps seem matter of no very great wonder that he should have

been rather out of sorts, and unable to make himself quite at home.

Although he had never seen either of the Mr Garlands, or Mr Witherden,

since the time of his arrest, he had been given to understand that they

had employed counsel for him. Therefore, when one of the gentlemen in

wigs got up and said 'I am for the prisoner, my Lord,' Kit made him a

bow; and when another gentleman in a wig got up and said 'And I'm

against him, my Lord,' Kit trembled very much, and bowed to him too.

And didn't he hope in his own heart that his gentleman was a match for

the other gentleman, and would make him ashamed of himself in no time!

The gentleman who was against him had to speak first, and being in

dreadfully good spirits (for he had, in the last trial, very nearly

procured the acquittal of a young gentleman who had had the misfortune

to murder his father) he spoke up, you may be sure; telling the jury

that if they acquitted this prisoner they must expect to suffer no less

pangs and agonies than he had told the other jury they would certainly

undergo if they convicted that prisoner. And when he had told them all

about the case, and that he had never known a worse case, he stopped a

little while, like a man who had something terrible to tell them, and

then said that he understood an attempt would be made by his learned

friend (and here he looked sideways at Kit's gentleman) to impeach the

testimony of those immaculate witnesses whom he should call before

them; but he did hope and trust that his learned friend would have a

greater respect and veneration for the character of the prosecutor;

than whom, as he well knew, there did not exist, and never had existed,

a more honourable member of that most honourable profession to which he

was attached. And then he said, did the jury know Bevis Marks? And if

they did know Bevis Marks (as he trusted for their own character, they

did) did they know the historical and elevating associations connected

with that most remarkable spot? Did they believe that a man like Brass

could reside in a place like Bevis Marks, and not be a virtuous and

most upright character? And when he had said a great deal to them on

this point, he remembered that it was an insult to their understandings

to make any remarks on what they must have felt so strongly without

him, and therefore called Sampson Brass into the witness-box,

straightway.

Then up comes Mr Brass, very brisk and fresh; and, having bowed to the

judge, like a man who has had the pleasure of seeing him before, and

who hopes he has been pretty well since their last meeting, folds his

arms, and looks at his gentleman as much as to say 'Here I am--full of

evidence--Tap me!' And the gentleman does tap him presently, and with

great discretion too; drawing off the evidence by little and little,

and making it run quite clear and bright in the eyes of all present.

Then, Kit's gentleman takes him in hand, but can make nothing of him;

and after a great many very long questions and very short answers, Mr

Sampson Brass goes down in glory.

To him succeeds Sarah, who in like manner is easy to be managed by Mr

Brass's gentleman, but very obdurate to Kit's. In short, Kit's

gentleman can get nothing out of her but a repetition of what she has

said before (only a little stronger this time, as against his client),