'Goodness gracious me!' cried Kit's mother, falling back in extreme
surprise, 'only think of this!'
She had some reason to be astonished, for the person who proffered
the gracious invitation was no other than Daniel Quilp. The little
door out of which he had thrust his head was close to the inn
larder; and there he stood, bowing with grotesque politeness; as
much at his ease as if the door were that of his own house;
blighting all the legs of mutton and cold roast fowls by his close
companionship, and looking like the evil genius of the cellars come
from underground upon some work of mischief.
'Would you do me the honour?' said Quilp.
'I prefer being alone,' replied the single gentleman.
'Oh!' said Quilp. And with that, he darted in again with one jerk
and clapped the little door to, like a figure in a Dutch clock when
the hour strikes.
'Why it was only last night, sir,' whispered Kit's mother, 'that I
left him in Little Bethel.'
'Indeed!' said her fellow-passenger. 'When did that person come
here, waiter?'
'Come down by the night-coach, this morning, sir.'
'Humph! And when is he going?'
'Can't say, sir, really. When the chambermaid asked him just now
if he should want a bed, sir, he first made faces at her, and then
wanted to kiss her.'
'Beg him to walk this way,' said the single gentleman. 'I should
be glad to exchange a word with him, tell him. Beg him to come at
once, do you hear?'
The man stared on receiving these instructions, for the single
gentleman had not only displayed as much astonishment as Kit's
mother at sight of the dwarf, but, standing in no fear of him, had
been at less pains to conceal his dislike and repugnance. He
departed on his errand, however, and immediately returned, ushering
in its object.
'Your servant, sir,' said the dwarf, 'I encountered your messenger
half-way. I thought you'd allow me to pay my compliments to you.
I hope you're well. I hope you're very well.'
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There was a short pause, while the dwarf, with half-shut eyes and
puckered face, stood waiting for an answer. Receiving none, he
turned towards his more familiar acquaintance.
'Christopher's mother!' he cried. 'Such a dear lady, such a worthy
woman, so blest in her honest son! How is Christopher's mother?
Have change of air and scene improved her? Her little family too,
and Christopher? Do they thrive? Do they flourish? Are they
growing into worthy citizens, eh?'
Making his voice ascend in the scale with every succeeding
question, Mr Quilp finished in a shrill squeak, and subsided into
the panting look which was customary with him, and which, whether
it were assumed or natural, had equally the effect of banishing all
expression from his face, and rendering it, as far as it afforded
any index to his mood or meaning, a perfect blank.
'Mr Quilp,' said the single gentleman.
The dwarf put his hand to his great flapped ear, and counterfeited
the closest attention.
'We two have met before--'
'Surely,' cried Quilp, nodding his head. 'Oh surely, sir. Such an
honour and pleasure--it's both, Christopher's mother, it's both--
is not to be forgotten so soon. By no means!'
'You may remember that the day I arrived in London, and found the
house to which I drove, empty and deserted, I was directed by some
of the neighbours to you, and waited upon you without stopping for
rest or refreshment?'
'How precipitate that was, and yet what an earnest and vigorous
measure!' said Quilp, conferring with himself, in imitation of his
friend Mr Sampson Brass.
'I found,' said the single gentleman, 'you most unaccountably, in
possession of everything that had so recently belonged to another
man, and that other man, who up to the time of your entering upon
his property had been looked upon as affluent, reduced to sudden
beggary, and driven from house and home.'
'We had warrant for what we did, my good sir,' rejoined Quilp, 'we
had our warrant. Don't say driven either. He went of his own
accord--vanished in the night, sir.'
'No matter,' said the single gentleman angrily. 'He was gone.'
'Yes, he was gone,' said Quilp, with the same exasperating
composure. 'No doubt he was gone. The only question was, where.
And it's a question still.'
'Now, what am I to think,' said the single gentleman, sternly
regarding him, 'of you, who, plainly indisposed to give me any
information then--nay, obviously holding back, and sheltering
yourself with all kinds of cunning, trickery, and evasion--are
dogging my footsteps now?'
'I dogging!' cried Quilp.
'Why, are you not?' returned his questioner, fretted into a state
of the utmost irritation. 'Were you not a few hours since, sixty
miles off, and in the chapel to which this good woman goes to say
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her prayers?'
'She was there too, I think?' said Quilp, still perfectly unmoved.
'I might say, if I was inclined to be rude, how do I know but you
are dogging MY footsteps. Yes, I was at chapel. What then? I've
read in books that pilgrims were used to go to chapel before they
went on journeys, to put up petitions for their safe return. Wise
men! journeys are very perilous--especially outside the coach.
Wheels come off, horses take fright, coachmen drive too fast,
coaches overturn. I always go to chapel before I start on
journeys. It's the last thing I do on such occasions, indeed.'
That Quilp lied most heartily in this speech, it needed no very
great penetration to discover, although for anything that he
suffered to appear in his face, voice, or manner, he might have
been clinging to the truth with the quiet constancy of a martyr.
'In the name of all that's calculated to drive one crazy, man,'
said the unfortunate single gentleman, 'have you not, for some
reason of your own, taken upon yourself my errand? don't you know
with what object I have come here, and if you do know, can you
throw no light upon it?'
'You think I'm a conjuror, sir,' replied Quilp, shrugging up his
shoulders. 'If I was, I should tell my own fortune--and make it.'
'Ah! we have said all we need say, I see,' returned the other,
throwing himself impatiently upon a sofa. 'Pray leave us, if you
please.'
'Willingly,' returned Quilp. 'Most willingly. Christopher's
mother, my good soul, farewell. A pleasant journey--back, sir.
Ahem!'
With these parting words, and with a grin upon his features
altogether indescribable, but which seemed to be compounded of
every monstrous grimace of which men or monkeys are capable, the
dwarf slowly retreated and closed the door behind him.
'Oho!' he said when he had regained his own room, and sat himself
down in a chair with his arms akimbo. 'Oho! Are you there, my
fri
end? In-deed!'
Chuckling as though in very great glee, and recompensing himself
for the restraint he had lately put upon his countenance by
twisting it into all imaginable varieties of ugliness, Mr Quilp,
rocking himself to and fro in his chair and nursing his left leg at
the same time, fell into certain meditations, of which it may be
necessary to relate the substance.
First, he reviewed the circumstances which had led to his repairing
to that spot, which were briefly these. Dropping in at Mr Sampson
Brass's office on the previous evening, in the absence of that
gentleman and his learned sister, he had lighted upon Mr Swiveller,
who chanced at the moment to be sprinkling a glass of warm gin and
water on the dust of the law, and to be moistening his clay, as the
phrase goes, rather copiously. But as clay in the abstract, when
too much moistened, becomes of a weak and uncertain consistency,
breaking down in unexpected places, retaining impressions but
faintly, and preserving no strength or steadiness of character, so
Mr Swiveller's clay, having imbibed a considerable quantity of
moisture, was in a very loose and slippery state, insomuch that the
various ideas impressed upon it were fast losing their distinctive
character, and running into each other. It is not uncommon for
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human clay in this condition to value itself above all things upon
its great prudence and sagacity; and Mr Swiveller, especially
prizing himself upon these qualities, took occasion to remark that
he had made strange discoveries in connection with the single
gentleman who lodged above, which he had determined to keep within
his own bosom, and which neither tortures nor cajolery should ever
induce him to reveal. Of this determination Mr Quilp expressed his
high approval, and setting himself in the same breath to goad Mr
Swiveller on to further hints, soon made out that the single
gentleman had been seen in communication with Kit, and that this
was the secret which was never to be disclosed.
Possessed of this piece of information, Mr Quilp directly supposed
that the single gentleman above stairs must be the same individual
who had waited on him, and having assured himself by further
inquiries that this surmise was correct, had no difficulty in
arriving at the conclusion that the intent and object of his
correspondence with Kit was the recovery of his old client and the
child. Burning with curiosity to know what proceedings were afoot,
he resolved to pounce upon Kit's mother as the person least able to
resist his arts, and consequently the most likely to be entrapped
into such revelations as he sought; so taking an abrupt leave of Mr
Swiveller, he hurried to her house. The good woman being from
home, he made inquiries of a neighbour, as Kit himself did soon
afterwards, and being directed to the chapel be took himself there,
in order to waylay her, at the conclusion of the service.
He had not sat in the chapel more than a quarter of an hour, and
with his eyes piously fixed upon the ceiling was chuckling inwardly
over the joke of his being there at all, when Kit himself appeared.
Watchful as a lynx, one glance showed the dwarf that he had come on
business. Absorbed in appearance, as we have seen, and feigning a
profound abstraction, he noted every circumstance of his behaviour,
and when he withdrew with his family, shot out after him. In fine,
he traced them to the notary's house; learnt the destination of the
carriage from one of the postilions; and knowing that a fast
night-coach started for the same place, at the very hour which was
on the point of striking, from a street hard by, darted round to
the coach-office without more ado, and took his seat upon the roof.
After passing and repassing the carriage on the road, and being
passed and repassed by it sundry times in the course of the night,
according as their stoppages were longer or shorter; or their rate
of travelling varied, they reached the town almost together. Quilp
kept the chaise in sight, mingled with the crowd, learnt the single
gentleman's errand, and its failure, and having possessed himself
of all that it was material to know, hurried off, reached the inn
before him, had the interview just now detailed, and shut himself
up in the little room in which he hastily reviewed all these
occurrences.
'You are there, are you, my friend?' he repeated, greedily biting
his nails. 'I am suspected and thrown aside, and Kit's the
confidential agent, is he? I shall have to dispose of him, I fear.
If we had come up with them this morning,' he continued, after a
thoughtful pause, 'I was ready to prove a pretty good claim. I
could have made my profit. But for these canting hypocrites, the
lad and his mother, I could get this fiery gentleman as comfortably
into my net as our old friend--our mutual friend, ha! ha!--and
chubby, rosy Nell. At the worst, it's a golden opportunity, not to
be lost. Let us find them first, and I'll find means of draining
you of some of your superfluous cash, sir, while there are prison
bars, and bolts, and locks, to keep your friend or kinsman safely.
I hate your virtuous people!' said the dwarf, throwing off a bumper
of brandy, and smacking his lips, 'ah! I hate 'em every one!'
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This was not a mere empty vaunt, but a deliberate avowal of his
real sentiments; for Mr Quilp, who loved nobody, had by little and
little come to hate everybody nearly or remotely connected with his
ruined client: --the old man himself, because he had been able to
deceive him and elude his vigilance --the child, because she was
the object of Mrs Quilp's commiseration and constant self-reproach
--the single gentleman, because of his unconcealed aversion to
himself --Kit and his mother, most mortally, for the reasons shown.
Above and beyond that general feeling of opposition to them, which
would have been inseparable from his ravenous desire to enrich
himself by these altered circumstances, Daniel Quilp hated them
every one.
In this amiable mood, Mr Quilp enlivened himself and his hatreds
with more brandy, and then, changing his quarters, withdrew to an
obscure alehouse, under cover of which seclusion he instituted all
possible inquiries that might lead to the discovery of the old man
and his grandchild. But all was in vain. Not the slightest trace
or clue could be obtained. They had left the town by night; no one
had seen them go; no one had met them on the road; the driver of no
coach, cart, or waggon, had seen any travellers answering their
description; nobody had fallen in with them, or heard of them.
Convinced at last that for the present all such attempts were
hopeless, he appointed two or three scouts, with promises of large
rewards in case of their forwarding him any intelligence, and
returned to London by next day's coach.
It was some gratifica
tion to Mr Quilp to find, as he took his place
upon the roof, that Kit's mother was alone inside; from which
circumstance he derived in the course of the journey much
cheerfulness of spirit, inasmuch as her solitary condition enabled
him to terrify her with many extraordinary annoyances; such as
hanging over the side of the coach at the risk of his life, and
staring in with his great goggle eyes, which seemed in hers the
more horrible from his face being upside down; dodging her in this
way from one window to another; getting nimbly down whenever they
changed horses and thrusting his head in at the window with a
dismal squint: which ingenious tortures had such an effect upon Mrs
Nubbles, that she was quite unable for the time to resist the
belief that Mr Quilp did in his own person represent and embody
that Evil Power, who was so vigorously attacked at Little Bethel,
and who, by reason of her backslidings in respect of Astley's and
oysters, was now frolicsome and rampant.
Kit, having been apprised by letter of his mother's intended
return, was waiting for her at the coach-office; and great was his
surprise when he saw, leering over the coachman's shoulder like
some familiar demon, invisible to all eyes but his, the well-known
face of Quilp.
'How are you, Christopher?' croaked the dwarf from the coach-top.
'All right, Christopher. Mother's inside.'
'Why, how did he come here, mother?' whispered Kit.
'I don't know how he came or why, my dear,' rejoined Mrs Nubbles,
dismounting with her son's assistance, 'but he has been a
terrifying of me out of my seven senses all this blessed day.'
'He has?' cried Kit.
'You wouldn't believe it, that you wouldn't,' replied his mother,
'but don't say a word to him, for I really don't believe he's
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human. Hush! Don't turn round as if I was talking of him, but
he's a squinting at me now in the full blaze of the coach-lamp,
quite awful!'
In spite of his mother's injunction, Kit turned sharply round to
look. Mr Quilp was serenely gazing at the stars, quite absorbed in
celestial contemplation.
'Oh, he's the artfullest creetur!' cried Mrs Nubbles. 'But come
away. Don't speak to him for the world.'
'Yes I will, mother. What nonsense. I say, sir--'
Mr Quilp affected to start, and looked smilingly round.
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