Martin Chuzzlewit

by Charles Dickens

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  BEARS TIDINGS OF MARTIN AND OF MARK, AS WELL AS OF A THIRD PERSON NOTQUITE UNKNOWN TO THE READER. EXHIBITS FILIAL PIETY IN AN UGLY ASPECT;AND CASTS A DOUBTFUL RAY OF LIGHT UPON A VERY DARK PLACE

  Tom Pinch and Ruth were sitting at their early breakfast, with thewindow open, and a row of the freshest little plants ranged before iton the inside by Ruth's own hands; and Ruth had fastened a sprig ofgeranium in Tom's button-hole, to make him very smart and summer-likefor the day (it was obliged to be fastened in, or that dear old Tomwas certain to lose it); and people were crying flowers up and down thestreet; and a blundering bee, who had got himself in between thetwo sashes of the window, was bruising his head against the glass,endeavouring to force himself out into the fine morning, and consideringhimself enchanted because he couldn't do it; and the morning was as finea morning as ever was seen; and the fragrant air was kissing Ruth andrustling about Tom, as if it said, 'how are you, my dears; I came allthis way on purpose to salute you;' and it was one of those glad timeswhen we form, or ought to form, the wish that every one on earth wereable to be happy, and catching glimpses of the summer of the heart, tofeel the beauty of the summer of the year.

  It was even a pleasanter breakfast than usual; and it was always apleasant one. For little Ruth had now two pupils to attend, each threetimes a week; and each two hours at a time; and besides this, she hadpainted some screens and card-racks, and, unknown to Tom (was there everanything so delightful!), had walked into a certain shop which dealtin such articles, after often peeping through the window; and had takencourage to ask the Mistress of that shop whether she would buy them. Andthe mistress had not only bought them, but had ordered more, and thatvery morning Ruth had made confession of these facts to Tom, and hadhanded him the money in a little purse she had worked expressly for thepurpose. They had been in a flutter about this, and perhaps had shed ahappy tear or two for anything the history knows to the contrary; butit was all over now; and a brighter face than Tom's, or a brighter facethan Ruth's, the bright sun had not looked on since he went to bed lastnight.

  'My dear girl,' said Tom, coming so abruptly on the subject, that heinterrupted himself in the act of cutting a slice of bread, and leftthe knife sticking in the loaf, 'what a queer fellow our landlord is!I don't believe he has been home once since he got me into thatunsatisfactory scrape. I begin to think he will never come home again.What a mysterious life that man does lead, to be sure!'

  'Very strange. Is it not, Tom?'

  'Really,' said Tom, 'I hope it is only strange. I hope there may benothing wrong in it. Sometimes I begin to be doubtful of that. I musthave an explanation with him,' said Tom, shaking his head as if thiswere a most tremendous threat, 'when I can catch him!'

  A short double knock at the door put Tom's menacing looks to flight, andawakened an expression of surprise instead.

  'Heyday!' said Tom. 'An early hour for visitors! It must be John, Isuppose.'

  'I--I--don't think it was his knock, Tom,' observed his little sister.

  'No?' said Tom. 'It surely can't be my employer suddenly arrived intown; directed here by Mr Fips; and come for the key of the office. It'ssomebody inquiring for me, I declare! Come in, if you please!'

  But when the person came in, Tom Pinch, instead of saying, 'Did youwish to speak with me, sir?' or, 'My name is Pinch, sir; what is yourbusiness, may I ask?' or addressing him in any such distant terms; criedout, 'Good gracious Heaven!' and seized him by both hands, with theliveliest manifestations of astonishment and pleasure.

  The visitor was not less moved than Tom himself, and they shook hands agreat many times, without another word being spoken on either side. Tomwas the first to find his voice.

  'Mark Tapley, too!' said Tom, running towards the door, and shakinghands with somebody else. 'My dear Mark, come in. How are you, Mark? Hedon't look a day older than he used to do at the Dragon. How ARE you,Mark?'

  'Uncommonly jolly, sir, thank'ee,' returned Mr Tapley, all smiles andbows. 'I hope I see you well, sir.'

  'Good gracious me!' cried Tom, patting him tenderly on the back. 'Howdelightful it is to hear his old voice again! My dear Martin, sit down.My sister, Martin. Mr Chuzzlewit, my love. Mark Tapley from the Dragon,my dear. Good gracious me, what a surprise this is! Sit down. Lord,bless me!'

  Tom was in such a state of excitement that he couldn't keep himselfstill for a moment, but was constantly running between Mark and Martin,shaking hands with them alternately, and presenting them over and overagain to his sister.

  'I remember the day we parted, Martin, as well as if it were yesterday,'said Tom. 'What a day it was! and what a passion you were in! And don'tyou remember my overtaking you in the road that morning, Mark, when Iwas going to Salisbury in the gig to fetch him, and you were looking outfor a situation? And don't you recollect the dinner we had at Salisbury,Martin, with John Westlock, eh! Good gracious me! Ruth, my dear,Mr Chuzzlewit. Mark Tapley, my love, from the Dragon. More cups andsaucers, if you please. Bless my soul, how glad I am to see you both!'

  And then Tom (as John Westlock had done on his arrival) ran off to theloaf to cut some bread and butter for them; and before he had spread asingle slice, remembered something else, and came running back again totell it; and then he shook hands with them again; and then he introducedhis sister again; and then he did everything he had done already allover again; and nothing Tom could do, and nothing Tom could say, washalf sufficient to express his joy at their safe return.

  Mr Tapley was the first to resume his composure. In a very short spaceof time he was discovered to have somehow installed himself in office aswaiter, or attendant upon the party; a fact which was first suggested tothem by his temporary absence in the kitchen, and speedy return with akettle of boiling water, from which he replenished the tea-pot with aself-possession that was quite his own.

  'Sit down, and take your breakfast, Mark,' said Tom. 'Make him sit downand take his breakfast, Martin.'

  'Oh! I gave him up, long ago, as incorrigible,' Martin replied. 'Hetakes his own way, Tom. You would excuse him, Miss Pinch, if you knewhis value.'

  'She knows it, bless you!' said Tom. 'I have told her all about MarkTapley. Have I not, Ruth?'

  'Yes, Tom.'

  'Not all,' returned Martin, in a low voice. 'The best of Mark Tapley isonly known to one man, Tom; and but for Mark he would hardly be alive totell it!'

  'Mark!' said Tom Pinch energetically; 'if you don't sit down thisminute, I'll swear at you!'

  'Well, sir,' returned Mr Tapley, 'sooner than you should do that, I'llcom-ply. It's a considerable invasion of a man's jollity to be made sopartickler welcome, but a Werb is a word as signifies to be, to do,or to suffer (which is all the grammar, and enough too, as ever I wostaught); and if there's a Werb alive, I'm it. For I'm always a-bein',sometimes a-doin', and continually a-sufferin'.'

  'Not jolly yet?' asked Tom, with a smile.

  'Why, I was rather so, over the water, sir,' returned Mr Tapley; 'andnot entirely without credit. But Human Natur' is in a conspiracy again'me; I can't get on. I shall have to leave it in my will, sir, to bewrote upon my tomb: "He was a man as might have come out strong if hecould have got a chance. But it was denied him."'

  Mr Tapley took this occasion of looking about him with a grin, andsubsequently attacking the breakfast, with an appetite not at allexpressive of blighted hopes, or insurmountable despondency.

  In the meanwhile, Martin drew his chair a little nearer to Tom and hissister, and related to them what had passed at Mr Pecksniff'shouse; adding in few words a general summary of the distresses anddisappointments he had undergone since he left England.

  'For your faithful stewardship in the trust I left with you, Tom,' hesaid, 'and for all your goodness and disinterestedness, I can neverthank you enough. When I add Mary's thanks to mine--'

  Ah, Tom! The blood retreated from his cheeks, and came rushing back, soviolently, that it was pain to feel it; ease though, ease, compared withthe aching of his wounded heart. />
  'When I add Mary's thanks to mine,' said Martin, 'I have made the onlypoor acknowledgment it is in our power to offer; but if you knew howmuch we feel, Tom, you would set some store by it, I am sure.'

  And if they had known how much Tom felt--but that no human creature everknew--they would have set some store by him. Indeed they would.

  Tom changed the topic of discourse. He was sorry he could not pursue it,as it gave Martin pleasure; but he was unable, at that moment. No dropof envy or bitterness was in his soul; but he could not master the firmutterance of her name.

  He inquired what Martin's projects were.

  'No longer to make your fortune, Tom,' said Martin, 'but to try to live.I tried that once in London, Tom; and failed. If you will give me thebenefit of your advice and friendly counsel, I may succeed better underyour guidance. I will do anything Tom, anything, to gain a livelihood bymy own exertions. My hopes do not soar above that, now.'

  High-hearted, noble Tom! Sorry to find the pride of his old companionhumbled, and to hear him speaking in this altered strain at once, atonce, he drove from his breast the inability to contend with its deepemotions, and spoke out bravely.

  'Your hopes do not soar above that!' cried Tom. 'Yes they do. How canyou talk so! They soar up to the time when you will be happy with her,Martin. They soar up to the time when you will be able to claim her,Martin. They soar up to the time when you will not be able to believethat you were ever cast down in spirit, or poor in pocket, Martin.Advice, and friendly counsel! Why, of course. But you shall have betteradvice and counsel (though you cannot have more friendly) than mine. Youshall consult John Westlock. We'll go there immediately. It is yet soearly that I shall have time to take you to his chambers before I go tobusiness; they are in my way; and I can leave you there, to talkover your affairs with him. So come along. Come along. I am a man ofoccupation now, you know,' said Tom, with his pleasantest smile; 'andhave no time to lose. Your hopes don't soar higher than that? I daresay they don't. I know you, pretty well. They'll be soaring out of sightsoon, Martin, and leaving all the rest of us leagues behind.'

  'Aye! But I may be a little changed,' said Martin, 'since you knew mepretty well, Tom.'

  'What nonsense!' exclaimed Tom. 'Why should you be changed? You talkas if you were an old man. I never heard such a fellow! Come to JohnWestlock's, come. Come along, Mark Tapley. It's Mark's doing, I haveno doubt; and it serves you right for having such a grumbler for yourcompanion.'

  'There's no credit to be got through being jolly with YOU, Mr Pinch,anyways,' said Mark, with his face all wrinkled up with grins. 'A parishdoctor might be jolly with you. There's nothing short of goin' to theU-nited States for a second trip, as would make it at all creditable tobe jolly, arter seein' you again!'

  Tom laughed, and taking leave of his sister, hurried Mark and Martin outinto the street, and away to John Westlock's by the nearest road; forhis hour of business was very near at hand, and he prided himself onalways being exact to his time.

  John Westlock was at home, but, strange to say, was rather embarrassedto see them; and when Tom was about to go into the room where hewas breakfasting, said he had a stranger there. It appeared to be amysterious stranger, for John shut that door as he said it, and led theminto the next room.

  He was very much delighted, though, to see Mark Tapley; and receivedMartin with his own frank courtesy. But Martin felt that he did notinspire John Westlock with any unusual interest; and twice orthrice observed that he looked at Tom Pinch doubtfully; not to saycompassionately. He thought, and blushed to think, that he knew thecause of this.

  'I apprehend you are engaged,' said Martin, when Tom had announced thepurport of their visit. 'If you will allow me to come again at your owntime, I shall be glad to do so.'

  'I AM engaged,' replied John, with some reluctance; 'but the matter onwhich I am engaged is one, to say the truth, more immediately demandingyour knowledge than mine.'

  'Indeed!' cried Martin.

  'It relates to a member of your family, and is of a serious nature. Ifyou will have the kindness to remain here, it will be a satisfaction tome to have it privately communicated to you, in order that you may judgeof its importance for yourself.'

  'And in the meantime,' said Tom, 'I must really take myself off, withoutany further ceremony.'

  'Is your business so very particular,' asked Martin, 'that you cannotremain with us for half an hour? I wish you could. What IS yourbusiness, Tom?'

  It was Tom's turn to be embarrassed now; but he plainly said, after alittle hesitation:

  'Why, I am not at liberty to say what it is, Martin; though I hopesoon to be in a condition to do so, and am aware of no other reasonto prevent my doing so now, than the request of my employer. It's anawkward position to be placed in,' said Tom, with an uneasy sense ofseeming to doubt his friend, 'as I feel every day; but I really cannothelp it, can I, John?'

  John Westlock replied in the negative; and Martin, expressing himselfperfectly satisfied, begged them not to say another word; though hecould not help wondering very much what curious office Tom held, and whyhe was so secret, and embarrassed, and unlike himself, in reference toit. Nor could he help reverting to it, in his own mind, several timesafter Tom went away, which he did as soon as this conversation wasended, taking Mr Tapley with him, who, as he laughingly said, mightaccompany him as far as Fleet Street without injury.

  'And what do you mean to do, Mark?' asked Tom, as they walked ontogether.

  'Mean to do, sir?' returned Mr Tapley.

  'Aye. What course of life do you mean to pursue?'

  'Well, sir,' said Mr Tapley. 'The fact is, that I have been a-thinkingrather of the matrimonial line, sir.'

  'You don't say so, Mark!' cried Tom.

  'Yes, sir. I've been a-turnin' of it over.'

  'And who is the lady, Mark?'

  'The which, sir?' said Mr Tapley.

  'The lady. Come! You know what I said,' replied Tom, laughing, 'as wellas I do!'

  Mr Tapley suppressed his own inclination to laugh; and with one of hismost whimsically-twisted looks, replied:

  'You couldn't guess, I suppose, Mr Pinch?'

  'How is it possible?' said Tom. 'I don't know any of your flames, Mark.Except Mrs Lupin, indeed.'

  'Well, sir!' retorted Mr Tapley. 'And supposing it was her!'

  Tom stopping in the street to look at him, Mr Tapley for a momentpresented to his view an utterly stolid and expressionless face; aperfect dead wall of countenance. But opening window after window init with astonishing rapidity, and lighting them all up as for a generalillumination, he repeated:

  'Supposin', for the sake of argument, as it was her, sir!'

  'Why I thought such a connection wouldn't suit you, Mark, on any terms!'cried Tom.

  'Well, sir! I used to think so myself, once,' said Mark. 'But I ain't soclear about it now. A dear, sweet creetur, sir!'

  'A dear, sweet creature? To be sure she is,' cried Tom. 'But she alwayswas a dear, sweet creature, was she not?'

  'WAS she not!' assented Mr Tapley.

  'Then why on earth didn't you marry her at first, Mark, instead ofwandering abroad, and losing all this time, and leaving her alone byherself, liable to be courted by other people?'

  'Why, sir,' retorted Mr Tapley, in a spirit of unbounded confidence,'I'll tell you how it come about. You know me, Mr Pinch, sir; thereain't a gentleman alive as knows me better. You're acquainted with myconstitution, and you're acquainted with my weakness. My constitutionis, to be jolly; and my weakness is, to wish to find a credit in it.Wery good, sir. In this state of mind, I gets a notion in my head thatshe looks on me with a eye of--with what you may call a favourable sortof a eye in fact,' said Mr Tapley, with modest hesitation.

  'No doubt,' replied Tom. 'We knew that perfectly well when we spoke onthis subject long ago; before you left the Dragon.'

  Mr Tapley nodded assent. 'Well, sir! But bein' at that time full ofhopeful wisions, I arrives at the conclusion that no credit is to be gotout of such a way of
life as that, where everything agreeable would beready to one's hand. Lookin' on the bright side of human life in short,one of my hopeful wisions is, that there's a deal of misery awaitin' forme; in the midst of which I may come out tolerable strong, and be jollyunder circumstances as reflects some credit. I goes into the world, sir,wery boyant, and I tries this. I goes aboard ship first, and wery soondiscovers (by the ease with which I'm jolly, mind you) as there's nocredit to be got THERE. I might have took warning by this, and gave itup; but I didn't. I gets to the U-nited States; and then I DO begin, Iwon't deny it, to feel some little credit in sustaining my spirits. Whatfollows? Jest as I'm a-beginning to come out, and am a-treadin' on thewerge, my master deceives me.'

  'Deceives you!' cried Tom.

  'Swindles me,' retorted Mr Tapley with a beaming face. 'Turns his backon everything as made his service a creditable one, and leaves me highand dry, without a leg to stand upon. In which state I returns home.Wery good. Then all my hopeful wisions bein' crushed; and findin' thatthere ain't no credit for me nowhere; I abandons myself to despair,and says, "Let me do that as has the least credit in it of all; marry adear, sweet creetur, as is wery fond of me; me bein', at the same time,wery fond of her; lead a happy life, and struggle no more again' theblight which settles on my prospects."'

  'If your philosophy, Mark,' said Tom, who laughed heartily at thisspeech, 'be the oddest I ever heard of, it is not the least wise. MrsLupin has said "yes," of course?'

  'Why, no, sir,' replied Mr Tapley; 'she hasn't gone so far as that yet.Which I attribute principally to my not havin' asked her. But we waswery agreeable together--comfortable, I may say--the night I come home.It's all right, sir.'

  'Well!' said Tom, stopping at the Temple Gate. 'I wish you joy, Mark,with all my heart. I shall see you again to-day, I dare say. Good-byefor the present.'

  'Good-bye, sir! Good-bye, Mr Pinch!' he added by way of soliloquy, ashe stood looking after him. 'Although you ARE a damper to a honourableambition. You little think it, but you was the first to dash my hopes.Pecksniff would have built me up for life, but your sweet temper pulledme down. Good-bye, Mr Pinch!'

  While these confidences were interchanged between Tom Pinch and Mark,Martin and John Westlock were very differently engaged. They were nosooner left alone together than Martin said, with an effort he could notdisguise:

  'Mr Westlock, we have met only once before, but you have known Tom along while, and that seems to render you familiar to me. I cannottalk freely with you on any subject unless I relieve my mind of whatoppresses it just now. I see with pain that you so far mistrust me thatyou think me likely to impose on Tom's regardlessness of himself, or onhis kind nature, or some of his good qualities.'

  'I had no intention,' replied John, 'of conveying any such impression toyou, and am exceedingly sorry to have done so.'

  'But you entertain it?' said Martin.

  'You ask me so pointedly and directly,' returned the other, 'that Icannot deny the having accustomed myself to regard you as one who,not in wantonness but in mere thoughtlessness of character, did notsufficiently consider his nature and did not quite treat it as itdeserves to be treated. It is much easier to slight than to appreciateTom Pinch.'

  This was not said warmly, but was energetically spoken too; for therewas no subject in the world (but one) on which the speaker felt sostrongly.

  'I grew into the knowledge of Tom,' he pursued, 'as I grew towardsmanhood; and I have learned to love him as something, infinitely betterthan myself. I did not think that you understood him when we met before.I did not think that you greatly cared to understand him. The instancesof this which I observed in you were, like my opportunities forobservation, very trivial--and were very harmless, I dare say. But theywere not agreeable to me, and they forced themselves upon me; for I wasnot upon the watch for them, believe me. You will say,' added John, witha smile, as he subsided into more of his accustomed manner, 'that I amnot by any means agreeable to you. I can only assure you, in reply, thatI would not have originated this topic on any account.'

  'I originated it,' said Martin; 'and so far from having any complaintto make against you, highly esteem the friendship you entertain forTom, and the very many proofs you have given him of it. Why shouldI endeavour to conceal from you'--he coloured deeply though--'thatI neither understood him nor cared to understand him when I was hiscompanion; and that I am very truly sorry for it now!'

  It was so sincerely said, at once so modestly and manfully, that Johnoffered him his hand as if he had not done so before; and Martin givinghis in the same open spirit, all constraint between the young menvanished.

  'Now pray,' said John, 'when I tire your patience very much in what Iam going to say, recollect that it has an end to it, and that the end isthe point of the story.'

  With this preface, he related all the circumstances connected with hishaving presided over the illness and slow recovery of the patient at theBull; and tacked on to the skirts of that narrative Tom's own account ofthe business on the wharf. Martin was not a little puzzled when he cameto an end, for the two stories seemed to have no connection with eachother, and to leave him, as the phrase is, all abroad.

  'If you will excuse me for one moment,' said John, rising, 'I will begyou almost immediately to come into the next room.'

  Upon that, he left Martin to himself, in a state of considerableastonishment; and soon came back again to fulfil his promise.Accompanying him into the next room, Martin found there a third person;no doubt the stranger of whom his host had spoken when Tom Pinchintroduced him.

  He was a young man; with deep black hair and eyes. He was gaunt andpale; and evidently had not long recovered from a severe illness. Hestood as Martin entered, but sat again at John's desire. His eyes werecast downward; and but for one glance at them both, half in humiliationand half in entreaty, he kept them so, and sat quite still and silent.

  'This person's name is Lewsome,' said John Westlock, 'whom I havementioned to you as having been seized with an illness at the inn nearhere, and undergone so much. He has had a very hard time of it, eversince he began to recover; but, as you see, he is now doing well.'

  As he did not move or speak, and John Westlock made a pause, Martin, notknowing what to say, said that he was glad to hear it.

  'The short statement that I wish you to hear from his own lips, MrChuzzlewit,' John pursued--looking attentively at him, and not atMartin--'he made to me for the first time yesterday, and repeated to methis morning, without the least variation of any essential particular. Ihave already told you that he informed me before he was removed from theInn, that he had a secret to disclose to me which lay heavy on his mind.But, fluctuating between sickness and health and between his desire torelieve himself of it, and his dread of involving himself by revealingit, he has, until yesterday, avoided the disclosure. I never pressedhim for it (having no idea of its weight or import, or of my right to doso), until within a few days past; when, understanding from him, on hisown voluntary avowal, in a letter from the country, that it related to aperson whose name was Jonas Chuzzlewit; and thinking that it might throwsome light on that little mystery which made Tom anxious now and then; Iurged the point upon him, and heard his statement, as you will now,from his own lips. It is due to him to say, that in the apprehensionof death, he committed it to writing sometime since, and folded it in asealed paper, addressed to me; which he could not resolve, however,to place of his own act in my hands. He has the paper in his breast, Ibelieve, at this moment.'

  The young man touched it hastily; in corroboration of the fact.

  'It will be well to leave that in our charge, perhaps,' said John. 'Butdo not mind it now.'

  As he said this, he held up his hand to bespeak Martin's attention. Itwas already fixed upon the man before him, who, after a short silencesaid, in a low, weak, hollow voice:

  'What relation was Mr Anthony Chuzzlewit, who--'

  '--Who died--to me?' said Martin. 'He was my grandfather's brother.'

  'I fear he was made away with. Mu
rdered!'

  'My God!' said Martin. 'By whom?'

  The young man, Lewsome, looked up in his face, and casting down his eyesagain, replied:

  'I fear, by me.'

  'By you?' cried Martin.

  'Not by my act, but I fear by my means.'

  'Speak out!' said Martin, 'and speak the truth.'

  'I fear this IS the truth.'

  Martin was about to interrupt him again, but John Westlock sayingsoftly, 'Let him tell his story in his own way,' Lewsome went on thus:

  'I have been bred a surgeon, and for the last few years have served ageneral practitioner in the City, as his assistant. While I was inhis employment I became acquainted with Jonas Chuzzlewit. He is theprincipal in this deed.'

  'What do you mean?' demanded Martin, sternly. 'Do you know he is the sonof the old man of whom you have spoken?'

  'I do,' he answered.

  He remained silent for some moments, when he resumed at the point wherehe had left off.

  'I have reason to know it; for I have often heard him wish his oldfather dead, and complain of his being wearisome to him, and a dragupon him. He was in the habit of doing so, at a place of meeting wehad--three or four of us--at night. There was no good in the place youmay suppose, when you hear that he was the chief of the party. I wish Ihad died myself, and never seen it!'

  He stopped again; and again resumed as before.

  'We met to drink and game; not for large sums, but for sums that werelarge to us. He generally won. Whether or no, he lent money at interestto those who lost; and in this way, though I think we all secretly hatedhim, he came to be the master of us. To propitiate him we made a jest ofhis father; it began with his debtors; I was one; and we used to toasta quicker journey to the old man, and a swift inheritance to the youngone.'

  He paused again.

  'One night he came there in a very bad humour. He had been greatlytried, he said, by the old man that day. He and I were alone together;and he angrily told me, that the old man was in his second childhood;that he was weak, imbecile, and drivelling; as unbearable to himself ashe was to other people; and that it would be a charity to put him out ofthe way. He swore that he had often thought of mixing something with thestuff he took for his cough, which should help him to die easily. Peoplewere sometimes smothered who were bitten by mad dogs, he said; and whynot help these lingering old men out of their troubles too? He lookedfull at me as he said so, and I looked full at him; but it went nofarther that night.'

  He stopped once more, and was silent for so long an interval that JohnWestlock said 'Go on.' Martin had never removed his eyes from his face,but was so absorbed in horror and astonishment that he could not speak.

  'It may have been a week after that, or it may have been less ormore--the matter was in my mind all the time, but I cannot recollect thetime, as I should any other period--when he spoke to me again. We werealone then, too; being there before the usual hour of assembling. Therewas no appointment between us; but I think I went there to meet him, andI know he came there to meet me. He was there first. He was readinga newspaper when I went in, and nodded to me without looking up, orleaving off reading. I sat down opposite and close to him. He said,immediately, that he wanted me to get him some of two sorts of drugs.One that was instantaneous in its effect; of which he wanted verylittle. One that was slow and not suspicious in appearance; of which hewanted more. While he was speaking to me he still read the newspaper. Hesaid "Drugs," and never used any other word. Neither did I.'

  'This all agrees with what I have heard before,' observed John Westlock.

  'I asked him what he wanted the drugs for? He said for no harm; tophysic cats; what did it matter to me? I was going out to a distantcolony (I had recently got the appointment, which, as Mr Westlockknows, I have since lost by my sickness, and which was my only hope ofsalvation from ruin), and what did it matter to me? He could get themwithout my aid at half a hundred places, but not so easily as he couldget them of me. This was true. He might not want them at all, he said,and he had no present idea of using them; but he wished to have themby him. All this time he still read the newspaper. We talked about theprice. He was to forgive me a small debt--I was quite in his power--andto pay me five pounds; and there the matter dropped, through otherscoming in. But, next night, under exactly similar circumstances, I gavehim the drugs, on his saying I was a fool to think that he should everuse them for any harm; and he gave me the money. We have never metsince. I only know that the poor old father died soon afterwards, justas he would have died from this cause; and that I have undergone, andsuffer now, intolerable misery. Nothing' he added, stretching out hishands, 'can paint my misery! It is well deserved, but nothing can paintit.'

  With that he hung his head, and said no more, wasted and wretched, hewas not a creature upon whom to heap reproaches that were unavailing.

  'Let him remain at hand,' said Martin, turning from him; 'but out ofsight, in Heaven's name!'

  'He will remain here,' John whispered. 'Come with me!' Softly turningthe key upon him as they went out, he conducted Martin into theadjoining room, in which they had been before.

  Martin was so amazed, so shocked, and confounded by what he had heardthat it was some time before he could reduce it to any order in hismind, or could sufficiently comprehend the bearing of one part uponanother, to take in all the details at one view. When he, at length, hadthe whole narrative clearly before him, John Westlock went on to pointout the great probability of the guilt of Jonas being known to otherpeople, who traded in it for their own benefit, and who were, bysuch means, able to exert that control over him which Tom Pinch hadaccidentally witnessed, and unconsciously assisted. This appeared soplain, that they agreed upon it without difficulty; but instead ofderiving the least assistance from this source, they found that itembarrassed them the more.

  They knew nothing of the real parties who possessed this power. The onlyperson before them was Tom's landlord. They had no right to questionTom's landlord, even if they could find him, which, according to Tom'saccount, it would not be easy to do. And granting that they did questionhim, and he answered (which was taking a good deal for granted), he hadonly to say, with reference to the adventure on the wharf, that he hadbeen sent from such and such a place to summon Jonas back on urgentbusiness, and there was an end of it.

  Besides, there was the great difficulty and responsibility of moving atall in the matter. Lewsome's story might be false; in his wretched stateit might be greatly heightened by a diseased brain; or admitting itto be entirely true, the old man might have died a natural death. MrPecksniff had been there at the time; as Tom immediately remembered,when he came back in the afternoon, and shared their counsels; and therehad been no secrecy about it. Martin's grandfather was of right theperson to decide upon the course that should be taken; but to get at hisviews would be impossible, for Mr Pecksniff's views were certain tobe his. And the nature of Mr Pecksniff's views in reference to his ownson-in-law might be easily reckoned upon.

  Apart from these considerations, Martin could not endure the thoughtof seeming to grasp at this unnatural charge against his relative, andusing it as a stepping-stone to his grandfather's favour. But that hewould seem to do so, if he presented himself before his grandfather inMr Pecksniff's house again, for the purpose of declaring it; and thatMr Pecksniff, of all men, would represent his conduct in that despicablelight, he perfectly well knew. On the other hand to be in possession ofsuch a statement, and take no measures of further inquiry in referenceto it, was tantamount to being a partner in the guilt it professed todisclose.

  In a word, they were wholly unable to discover any outlet from this mazeof difficulty, which did not lie through some perplexed and entangledthicket. And although Mr Tapley was promptly taken into theirconfidence; and the fertile imagination of that gentleman suggested manybold expedients, which, to do him justice, he was quite ready to carryinto instant operation on his own personal responsibility; still 'batingthe general zeal of Mr Tapley's nature, nothing was made particul
arlyclearer by these offers of service.

  It was in this position of affairs that Tom's account of the strangebehaviour of the decayed clerk, on the night of the tea-party, becameof great moment, and finally convinced them that to arrive at a moreaccurate knowledge of the workings of that old man's mind and memory,would be to take a most important stride in their pursuit of the truth.So, having first satisfied themselves that no communication had evertaken place between Lewsome and Mr Chuffey (which would have accountedat once for any suspicions the latter might entertain), they unanimouslyresolved that the old clerk was the man they wanted.

  But, like the unanimous resolution of a public meeting, which willoftentimes declare that this or that grievance is not to be bornea moment longer, which is nevertheless borne for a century or twoafterwards, without any modification, they only reached in this theconclusion that they were all of one mind. For it was one thing to wantMr Chuffey, and another thing to get at him; and to do that withoutalarming him, or without alarming Jonas, or without being discomfitedby the difficulty of striking, in an instrument so out of tune and sounused, the note they sought, was an end as far from their reach asever.

  The question then became, who of those about the old clerk had had mostinfluence with him that night? Tom said his young mistress clearly.But Tom and all of them shrunk from the thought of entrapping her,and making her the innocent means of bringing retribution on her cruelhusband. Was there nobody else? Why yes. In a very different way, Tomsaid, he was influenced by Mrs Gamp, the nurse; who had once had thecontrol of him, as he understood, for some time.

  They caught at this immediately. Here was a new way out, developed in aquarter until then overlooked. John Westlock knew Mrs Gamp; he had givenher employment; he was acquainted with her place of residence: for thatgood lady had obligingly furnished him, at parting, with a pack of herprofessional cards for general distribution. It was decided that MrsGamp should be approached with caution, but approached without delay;and that the depths of that discreet matron's knowledge of Mr Chuffey,and means of bringing them, or one of them, into communication with him,should be carefully sounded.

  On this service, Martin and John Westlock determined to proceed thatnight; waiting on Mrs Gamp first, at her lodgings; and taking theirchance of finding her in the repose of private life, or of having toseek her out, elsewhere, in the exercise of her professional duties. Tomreturned home, that he might lose no opportunity of having an interviewwith Nadgett, by being absent in the event of his reappearance. And MrTapley remained (by his own particular desire) for the time being inFurnival's Inn, to look after Lewsome; who might safely have been leftto himself, however, for any thought he seemed to entertain of givingthem the slip.

  Before they parted on their several errands, they caused him to readaloud, in the presence of them all, the paper which he had about him,and the declaration he had attached to it, which was to the effect thathe had written it voluntarily, in the fear of death and in the tortureof his mind. And when he had done so, they all signed it, and taking itfrom him, of his free will, locked it in a place of safety.

  Martin also wrote, by John's advice, a letter to the trustees of thefamous Grammar School, boldly claiming the successful design as his,and charging Mr Pecksniff with the fraud he had committed. In thisproceeding also, John was hotly interested; observing, with his usualirreverance, that Mr Pecksniff had been a successful rascal all hislife through, and that it would be a lasting source of happiness to him(John) if he could help to do him justice in the smallest particular.

  A busy day! But Martin had no lodgings yet; so when these matters weredisposed of, he excused himself from dining with John Westlock and wasfain to wander out alone, and look for some. He succeeded, after greattrouble, in engaging two garrets for himself and Mark, situated in acourt in the Strand, not far from Temple Bar. Their luggage, which waswaiting for them at a coach-office, he conveyed to this new place ofrefuge; and it was with a glow of satisfaction, which as a selfish manhe never could have known and never had, that, thinking how much painsand trouble he had saved Mark, and how pleased and astonished Mark wouldbe, he afterwards walked up and down, in the Temple, eating a meat-piefor his dinner.