Чарльз Диккенс
The Old Curiosity Shop
Although at another time Mr Swiveller might have looked upon this as a doubtful compliment, he felt it, under the then-existing circumstances, a great relief to be assured that he was not wrongfully suspected. When he had made a suitable reply, Mr Brass wrung him by the hand, and fell into a brown study, as did Miss Sally likewise. Richard too remained in a thoughtful state; fearing every moment to hear the Marchioness impeached, and unable to resist the conviction that she must be guilty.
When they had severally remained in this condition for some minutes, Miss Sally all at once gave a loud rap upon the desk with her clenched fist, and cried, ‘I’ve hit it!’ – as indeed she had, and chipped a piece out of it too; but that was not her meaning.
‘Well,’ cried Brass anxiously. ‘Go on, will you!’
‘Why,’ replied his sister with an air of triumph, ‘hasn’t there been somebody always coming in and out of this office for the last three or four weeks; hasn’t that somebody been left alone in it sometimes – thanks to you; and do you mean to tell me that that somebody isn’t the thief!’
‘What somebody?’ blustered Brass.
‘Why, what do you call him – Kit.’
‘Mr Garland’s young man?’
‘To be sure.’
‘Never!’ cried Brass. ‘Never. I’ll not hear of it. Don’t tell me’ – said Sampson, shaking his head, and working with both his hands as if he were clearing away ten thousand cobwebs. ‘I’ll never believe it of him. Never!’
‘I say,’ repeated Miss Brass, taking another pinch of snuff, ‘that he’s the thief.’
‘I say,’ returned Sampson violently, ‘that he is not. What do you mean? How dare you? Are characters to be whispered away like this? Do you know that he’s the honestest and faithfullest fellow that ever lived, and that he has an irreproachable good name? Come in, come in!’
These last words were not addressed to Miss Sally, though they partook of the tone in which the indignant remonstrances that preceded them had been uttered. They were addressed to some person who had knocked at the office-door; and they had hardly passed the lips of Mr Brass, when this very Kit himself looked in.
‘Is the gentleman up-stairs, sir, if you please?’
‘Yes, Kit,’ said Brass, still fired with an honest indignation, and frowning with knotted brows upon his sister; ‘Yes Kit, he is. I am glad to see you Kit, I am rejoiced to see you. Look in again, as you come down-stairs, Kit. That lad a robber!’ cried Brass when he had withdrawn, ‘with that frank and open countenance! I’d trust him with untold gold. Mr Richard, sir, have the goodness to step directly to Wrasp and Co.‘s in Broad Street, and inquire if they have had instructions to appear in Carkem and Painter. That lad a robber,’ sneered Sampson, flushed and heated with his wrath. ‘Am I blind, deaf, silly; do I know nothing of human nature when I see it before me? Kit a robber! Bah!’
Flinging this final interjection at Miss Sally with immeasurable scorn and contempt, Sampson Brass thrust his head into his desk, as if to shut the base world from his view, and breathed defiance from under its half-closed lid.
CHAPTER 59
When Kit, having discharged his errand, came down-stairs from the single gentleman’s apartment after the lapse of a quarter of an hour or so, Mr Sampson Brass was alone in the office. He was not singing as usual, nor was he seated at his desk. The open door showed him standing before the fire with his back towards it, and looking so very strange that Kit supposed he must have been suddenly taken ill.
‘Is anything the matter, sir?’ said Kit.
‘Matter!’ cried Brass. ‘No. Why anything the matter?’
‘You are so very pale,’ said Kit, ‘that I should hardly have known you.’
‘Pooh pooh! mere fancy,’ cried Brass, stooping to throw up the cinders. ‘Never better, Kit, never better in all my life. Merry too. Ha ha! How’s our friend above-stairs, eh?’
‘A great deal better,’ said Kit.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ rejoined Brass; ‘thankful, I may say. An excellent gentleman – worthy, liberal, generous, gives very little trouble – an admirable lodger. Ha ha! Mr Garland – he’s well I hope, Kit – and the pony – my friend, my particular friend you know. Ha ha!’
Kit gave a satisfactory account of all the little household at Abel Cottage. Mr Brass, who seemed remarkably inattentive and impatient, mounted on his stool, and beckoning him to come nearer, took him by the button-hole.
‘I have been thinking, Kit,’ said the lawyer, ‘that I could throw some little emoluments in your mother’s way – You have a mother, I think? If I recollect right, you told me – ’
‘Oh yes, Sir, yes certainly.’
‘A widow, I think? an industrious widow?’
‘A harder-working woman or a better mother never lived, Sir.’
‘Ah!’ cried Brass. ‘That’s affecting, truly affecting. A poor widow struggling to maintain her orphans in decency and comfort, is a delicious picture of human goodness. – Put down your hat, Kit.’
‘Thank you Sir, I must be going directly.’
‘Put it down while you stay, at any rate,’ said Brass, taking it from him and making some confusion among the papers, in finding a place for it on the desk. ‘I was thinking, Kit, that we have often houses to let for people we are concerned for, and matters of that sort. Now you know we’re obliged to put people into those houses to take care of ‘em – very often undeserving people that we can’t depend upon. What’s to prevent our having a person that we can depend upon, and enjoying the delight of doing a good action at the same time? I say, what’s to prevent our employing this worthy woman, your mother? What with one job and another, there’s lodging – and good lodging too – pretty well all the year round, rent free, and a weekly allowance besides, Kit, that would provide her with a great many comforts she don’t at present enjoy. Now what do you think of that? Do you see any objection? My only desire is to serve you, Kit; therefore if you do, say so freely.’
As Brass spoke, he moved the hat twice or thrice, and shuffled among the papers again, as if in search of something.
‘How can I see any objection to such a kind offer, sir?’ replied Kit with his whole heart. ‘I don’t know how to thank you sir, I don’t indeed.’
‘Why then,’ said Brass, suddenly turning upon him and thrusting his face close to Kit’s with such a repulsive smile that the latter, even in the very height of his gratitude, drew back, quite startled. ‘Why then, it’s done.’
Kit looked at him in some confusion.
‘Done, I say,’ added Sampson, rubbing his hands and veiling himself again in his usual oily manner. ‘Ha ha! and so you shall find Kit, so you shall find. But dear me,’ said Brass, ‘what a time Mr Richard is gone! A sad loiterer to be sure! Will you mind the office one minute, while I run up-stairs? Only one minute. I’ll not detain you an instant longer, on any account, Kit.’
Talking as he went, Mr Brass bustled out of the office, and in a very short time returned. Mr Swiveller came back, almost at the same instant; and as Kit was leaving the room hastily, to make up for lost time, Miss Brass herself encountered him in the doorway.
‘Oh!’ sneered Sally, looking after him as she entered. ‘There goes your pet, Sammy, eh?’
‘Ah! There he goes,’ replied Brass. ‘My pet, if you please. An honest fellow, Mr Richard, sir – a worthy fellow indeed!’
‘Hem!’ coughed Miss Brass.
‘I tell you, you aggravating vagabond,’ said the angry Sampson, ‘that I’d stake my life upon his honesty. Am I never to hear the last of this? Am I always to be baited, and beset, by your mean suspicions? Have you no regard for true merit, you malignant fellow? If you come to that, I’d sooner suspect your honesty than his.’
Miss Sally pulled out the tin snuff-box, and took a long, slow pinch, regarding her brother with a steady gaze all the time.
‘She drives me wild, Mr Richard, sir,’ said Brass, ‘she exasperates me beyond all bearing. I am heated and excited, sir, I know I am. These are not business manners, sir, nor business looks, but she carries me out of myself.’
‘Why don’t you leave him alone?’ said Dick.
‘Because she can’t, sir,’ retorted Brass; ‘because to chafe and vex me is a part of her nature, Sir, and she will and must do it, or I don’t believe she’d have her health. But never mind,’ said Brass, ‘never mind. I’ve carried my point. I’ve shown my confidence in the lad. He has minded the office again. Ha ha! Ugh, you viper!’
The beautiful virgin took another pinch, and put the snuff-box in her pocket; still looking at her brother with perfect composure.
‘He has minded the office again,’ said Brass triumphantly; ‘he has had my confidence, and he shall continue to have it; he – why, where’s the – ’
‘What have you lost?’ inquired Mr Swiveller.
‘Dear me!’ said Brass, slapping all his pockets, one after another, and looking into his desk, and under it, and upon it, and wildly tossing the papers about, ‘the note, Mr Richard, sir, the five-pound note – what can have become of it? I laid it down here – God bless me!’
‘What!’ cried Miss Sally, starting up, clapping her hands, and scattering the papers on the floor. ‘Gone! Now who’s right? Now who’s got it? Never mind five pounds – what’s five pounds? He’s honest, you know, quite honest. It would be mean to suspect him. Don’t run after him. No, no, not for the world!’
‘Is it really gone though?’ said Dick, looking at Brass with a face as pale as his own.
‘Upon my word, Mr Richard, Sir,’ replied the lawyer, feeling in all his pockets with looks of the greatest agitation, ‘I fear this is a black business. It’s certainly gone, Sir. What’s to be done?’
‘Don’t run after him,’ said Miss Sally, taking more snuff. ‘Don’t run after him on any account. Give him time to get rid of it, you know. It would be cruel to find him out!’
Mr Swiveller and Sampson Brass looked from Miss Sally to each other, in a state of bewilderment, and then, as by one impulse, caught up their hats and rushed out into the street – darting along in the middle of the road, and dashing aside all obstructions, as though they were running for their lives.
It happened that Kit had been running too, though not so fast, and having the start of them by some few minutes, was a good distance ahead. As they were pretty certain of the road he must have taken, however, and kept on at a great pace, they came up with him, at the very moment when he had taken breath, and was breaking into a run again.
‘Stop!’ cried Sampson, laying his hand on one shoulder, while Mr Swiveller pounced upon the other. ‘Not so fast sir. You’re in a hurry?’
‘Yes, I am,’ said Kit, looking from one to the other in great surprise.
‘I – I – can hardly believe it,’ panted Sampson, ‘but something of value is missing from the office. I hope you don’t know what.’
‘Know what! good Heaven, Mr Brass!’ cried Kit, trembling from head to foot; ‘you don’t suppose – ’
‘No, no,’ rejoined Brass quickly, ‘I don’t suppose anything. Don’t say I said you did. You’ll come back quietly, I hope?’
‘Of course I will,’ returned Kit. ‘Why not?’
‘To be sure!’ said Brass. ‘Why not? I hope there may turn out to be no why not. If you knew the trouble I’ve been in, this morning, through taking your part, Christopher, you’d be sorry for it.’
‘And I am sure you’ll be sorry for having suspected me sir,’ replied Kit. ‘Come. Let us make haste back.’
‘Certainly!’ cried Brass, ‘the quicker, the better. Mr Richard – have the goodness, sir, to take that arm. I’ll take this one. It’s not easy walking three abreast, but under these circumstances it must be done, sir; there’s no help for it.’
Kit did turn from white to red, and from red to white again, when they secured him thus, and for a moment seemed disposed to resist. But, quickly recollecting himself, and remembering that if he made any struggle, he would perhaps be dragged by the collar through the public streets, he only repeated, with great earnestness and with the tears standing in his eyes, that they would be sorry for this – and suffered them to lead him off. While they were on the way back, Mr Swiveller, upon whom his present functions sat very irksomely, took an opportunity of whispering in his ear that if he would confess his guilt, even by so much as a nod, and promise not to do so any more, he would connive at his kicking Sampson Brass on the shins and escaping up a court; but Kit indignantly rejecting this proposal, Mr Richard had nothing for it, but to hold him tight until they reached Bevis Marks, and ushered him into the presence of the charming Sarah, who immediately took the precaution of locking the door.
‘Now, you know,’ said Brass, ‘if this is a case of innocence, it is a case of that description, Christopher, where the fullest disclosure is the best satisfaction for everybody. Therefore if you’ll consent to an examination,’ he demonstrated what kind of examination he meant by turning back the cuffs of his coat, ‘it will be a comfortable and pleasant thing for all parties.’
‘Search me,’ said Kit, proudly holding up his arms. ‘But mind, sir – I know you’ll be sorry for this, to the last day of your life.’
‘It is certainly a very painful occurrence,’ said Brass with a sigh, as he dived into one of Kit’s pockets, and fished up a miscellaneous collection of small articles; ‘very painful. Nothing here, Mr Richard, Sir, all perfectly satisfactory. Nor here, sir. Nor in the waistcoat, Mr Richard, nor in the coat tails. So far, I am rejoiced, I am sure.’
Richard Swiveller, holding Kit’s hat in his hand, was watching the proceedings with great interest, and bore upon his face the slightest possible indication of a smile, as Brass, shutting one of his eyes, looked with the other up the inside of one of the poor fellow’s sleeves as if it were a telescope – when Sampson turning hastily to him, bade him search the hat.
‘Here’s a handkerchief,’ said Dick.
‘No harm in that sir,’ rejoined Brass, applying his eye to the other sleeve, and speaking in the voice of one who was contemplating an immense extent of prospect. ‘No harm in a handkerchief Sir, whatever. The faculty don’t consider it a healthy custom, I believe, Mr Richard, to carry one’s handkerchief in one’s hat – I have heard that it keeps the head too warm – but in every other point of view, its being there, is extremely satisfactory – extremely so.’
An exclamation, at once from Richard Swiveller, Miss Sally, and Kit himself, cut the lawyer short. He turned his head, and saw Dick standing with the bank-note in his hand.
‘In the hat?’ cried Brass in a sort of shriek.
‘Under the handkerchief, and tucked beneath the lining,’ said Dick, aghast at the discovery.
Mr Brass looked at him, at his sister, at the walls, at the ceiling, at the floor – everywhere but at Kit, who stood quite stupefied and motionless.
‘And this,’ cried Sampson, clasping his hands, ‘is the world that turns upon its own axis, and has Lunar influences, and revolutions round Heavenly Bodies, and various games of that sort! This is human natur, is it! Oh natur, natur! This is the miscreant that I was going to benefit with all my little arts, and that, even now, I feel so much for, as to wish to let him go! But,’ added Mr Brass with greater fortitude, ‘I am myself a lawyer, and bound to set an example in carrying the laws of my happy country into effect. Sally my dear, forgive me, and catch hold of him on the other side. Mr Richard, sir, have the goodness to run and fetch a constable. The weakness is past and over sir, and moral strength returns. A constable, sir, if you please!’
CHAPTER 60
Kit stood as one entranced, with his eyes opened wide and fixed upon the ground, regardless alike of the tremulous hold which Mr Brass maintained on one side of his cravat, and of the firmer grasp of Miss Sally upon the other; although this latter detention was in itself no small inconvenience, as that fascinating woman, besides screwing her knuckles inconveniently into his throat from time to time, had fastened upon him in the first instance with so tight a grip that even in the disorder and distraction of his thoughts he could not divest himself of an uneasy sense of choking. Between the brother and sister he remained in this posture, quite unresisting and passive, until Mr Swiveller returned, with a police constable at his heels.
This functionary, being, of course, well used to such scenes; looking upon all kinds of robbery, from petty larceny up to housebreaking or ventures on the highway, as matters in the regular course of business; and regarding the perpetrators in the light of so many customers coming to be served at the wholesale and retail shop of criminal law where he stood behind the counter; received Mr Brass’s statement of facts with about as much interest and surprise, as an undertaker might evince if required to listen to a circumstantial account of the last illness of a person whom he was called in to wait upon professionally; and took Kit into custody with a decent indifference.
‘We had better,’ said this subordinate minister of justice, ‘get to the office while there’s a magistrate sitting. I shall want you to come along with us, Mr Brass, and the – ’ he looked at Miss Sally as if in some doubt whether she might not be a griffin or other fabulous monster.
‘The lady, eh?’ said Sampson.
‘Ah!’ replied the constable. ‘Yes – the lady. Likewise the young man that found the property.’
‘Mr Richard, Sir,’ said Brass in a mournful voice. ‘A sad necessity. But the altar of our country sir – ’
‘You’ll have a hackney-coach, I suppose?’ interrupted the constable, holding Kit (whom his other captors had released) carelessly by the arm, a little above the elbow. ‘Be so good as send for one, will you?’
‘But, hear me speak a word,’ cried Kit, raising his eyes and looking imploringly about him. ‘Hear me speak a word. I am no more guilty than any one of you. Upon my soul I am not. I a thief! Oh, Mr Brass, you know me better. I am sure you know me better. This is not right of you, indeed.’
‘I give you my word, constable – ’ said Brass. But here the constable interposed with the constitutional principle ‘words be blowed;’ observing that words were but spoon-meat for babes and sucklings, and that oaths were the food for strong men.
‘Quite true, constable,’ assented Brass in the same mournful tone. ‘Strictly correct. I give you my oath, constable, that down to a few minutes ago, when this fatal discovery was made, I had such confidence in that lad, that I’d have trusted him with – a hackney-coach, Mr Richard, sir; you’re very slow, Sir.’
‘Who is there that knows me,’ cried Kit, ‘that would not trust me – that does not? ask anybody whether they have ever doubted me; whether I have ever wronged them of a farthing. Was I ever once dishonest when I was poor and hungry, and is it likely I would begin now! Oh consider what you do. How can I meet the kindest friends that ever human creature had, with this dreadful charge upon me!’
Mr Brass rejoined that it would have been well for the prisoner if he had thought of that before, and was about to make some other gloomy observations when the voice of the single gentleman was heard, demanding from above-stairs what was the matter, and what was the cause of all that noise and hurry. Kit made an involuntary start towards the door in his anxiety to answer for himself, but being speedily detained by the constable, had the agony of seeing Sampson Brass run out alone to tell the story in his own way.
‘And he can hardly believe it, either,’ said Sampson, when he returned, ‘nor nobody will. I wish I could doubt the evidence of my senses, but their depositions are unimpeachable. It’s of no use cross-examining my eyes,’ cried Sampson, winking and rubbing them, ‘they stick to their first account, and will. Now, Sarah, I hear the coach in the Marks; get on your bonnet, and we’ll be off. A sad errand! a moral funeral, quite!’
‘Mr Brass,’ said Kit. ‘Do me one favour. Take me to Mr Witherden’s first.’
Sampson shook his head irresolutely.
‘Do,’ said Kit. ‘My master’s there. For Heaven’s sake, take me there, first.’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ stammered Brass, who perhaps had his reasons for wishing to show as fair as possible in the eyes of the notary. ‘How do we stand in point of time, constable, eh?’
The constable, who had been chewing a straw all this while with great philosophy, replied that if they went away at once they would have time enough, but that if they stood shilly-shallying there, any longer, they must go straight to the Mansion House; and finally expressed his opinion that that was where it was, and that was all about it.
Mr Richard Swiveller having arrived inside the coach, and still remaining immoveable in the most commodious corner with his face to the horses, Mr Brass instructed the officer to remove his prisoner, and declared himself quite ready. Therefore, the constable, still holding Kit in the same manner, and pushing him on a little before him, so as to keep him at about three-quarters of an arm’s length in advance (which is the professional mode), thrust him into the vehicle and followed himself. Miss Sally entered next; and there being now four inside, Sampson Brass got upon the box, and made the coachman drive on.
Still completely stunned by the sudden and terrible change which had taken place in his affairs, Kit sat gazing out of the coach window, almost hoping to see some monstrous phenomenon in the streets which might give him reason to believe he was in a dream. Alas! Everything was too real and familiar: the same succession of turnings, the same houses, the same streams of people running side by side in different directions upon the pavement, the same bustle of carts and carriages in the road, the same well-remembered objects in the shop windows: a regularity in the very noise and hurry which no dream ever mirrored. Dream-like as the story was, it was true. He stood charged with robbery; the note had been found upon him, though he was innocent in thought and deed; and they were carrying him back, a prisoner.
Absorbed in these painful ruminations, thinking with a drooping heart of his mother and little Jacob, feeling as though even the consciousness of innocence would be insufficient to support him in the presence of his friends if they believed him guilty, and sinking in hope and courage more and more as they drew nearer to the notary’s, poor Kit was looking earnestly out of the window, observant of nothing, – when all at once, as though it had been conjured up by magic, he became aware of the face of Quilp.
And what a leer there was upon the face! It was from the open window of a tavern that it looked out; and the dwarf had so spread himself over it, with his elbows on the window-sill and his head resting on both his hands, that what between this attitude and his being swoln with suppressed laughter, he looked puffed and bloated into twice his usual breadth. Mr Brass, on recognising him, immediately stopped the coach. As it came to a halt directly opposite to where he stood, the dwarf pulled off his hat, and saluted the party with a hideous and grotesque politeness.
'Aha!’ he cried. ‘Where now, Brass? where now? Sally with you too? Sweet Sally! And Dick? Pleasant Dick! And Kit! Honest Kit!’
‘He’s extremely cheerful!’ said Brass to the coachman. ‘Very much so! Ah, sir – a sad business! Never believe in honesty any more, sir.’
‘Why not?’ returned the dwarf. ‘Why not, you rogue of a lawyer, why not?’
‘Bank-note lost in our office sir,’ said Brass, shaking his head. ‘Found in his hat sir – he previously left alone there – no mistake at all sir – chain of evidence complete – not a link wanting.’
‘What!’ cried the dwarf, leaning half his body out of window. ‘Kit a thief! Kit a thief! Ha ha ha! Why, he’s an uglier-looking thief than can be seen anywhere for a penny. Eh, Kit – eh? Ha ha ha! Have you taken Kit into custody before he had time and opportunity to beat me! Eh, Kit, eh?’ And with that, he burst into a yell of laughter, manifestly to the great terror of the coachman, and pointed to a dyer’s pole hard by, where a dangling suit of clothes bore some resemblance to a man upon a gibbet.
‘Is it coming to that, Kit!’ cried the dwarf, rubbing his hands violently. ‘Ha ha ha ha! What a disappointment for little Jacob, and for his darling mother! Let him have the Bethel minister to comfort and console him, Brass. Eh, Kit, eh? Drive on coachey, drive on. Bye bye, Kit; all good go with you; keep up your spirits; my love to the Garlands – the dear old lady and gentleman. Say I inquired after ‘em, will you? Blessings on ‘em, on you, and on everybody, Kit. Blessings on all the world!’
With such good wishes and farewells, poured out in a rapid torrent until they were out of hearing, Quilp suffered them to depart; and when he could see the coach no longer, drew in his head, and rolled upon the ground in an ecstacy of enjoyment.
When they reached the notary’s, which they were not long in doing, for they had encountered the dwarf in a bye street at a very little distance from the house, Mr Brass dismounted; and opening the coach door with a melancholy visage, requested his sister to accompany him into the office, with the view of preparing the good people within, for the mournful intelligence that awaited them. Miss Sally complying, he desired Mr Swiveller to accompany them. So, into the office they went; Mr Sampson and his sister arm-in-arm; and Mr Swiveller following, alone.
The notary was standing before the fire in the outer office, talking to Mr Abel and the elder Mr Garland, while Mr Chuckster sat writing at the desk, picking up such crumbs of their conversation as happened to fall in his way. This posture of affairs Mr Brass observed through the glass-door as he was turning the handle, and seeing that the notary recognised him, he began to shake his head and sigh deeply while that partition yet divided them.
‘Sir,’ said Sampson, taking off his hat, and kissing the two fore-fingers of his right hand beaver glove, ‘my name is Brass – Brass of Bevis Marks, Sir. I have had the honour and pleasure, Sir, of being concerned against you in some little testamentary matters. How do you do, sir?’
‘My clerk will attend to any business you may have come upon, Mr Brass,’ said the notary, turning away.
‘Thank you Sir,’ said Brass, ‘thank you, I am sure. Allow me, Sir, to introduce my sister – quite one of us Sir, although of the weaker sex – of great use in my business Sir, I assure you. Mr Richard, sir, have the goodness to come foward if you please – No really,’ said Brass, stepping between the notary and his private office (towards which he had begun to retreat), and speaking in the tone of an injured man, ‘really Sir, I must, under favour, request a word or two with you, indeed.’
‘Mr Brass,’ said the other, in a decided tone, ‘I am engaged. You see that I am occupied with these gentlemen. If you will communicate your business to Mr Chuckster yonder, you will receive every attention.’
‘Gentlemen,’ said Brass, laying his right hand on his waistcoat, and looking towards the father and son with a smooth smile – ‘Gentlemen, I appeal to you – really, gentlemen – consider, I beg of you. I am of the law. I am styled “gentleman” by Act of Parliament. I maintain the title by the annual payment of twelve pound sterling for a certificate. I am not one of your players of music, stage actors, writers of books, or painters of pictures, who assume a station that the laws of their country don’t recognise. I am none of your strollers or vagabonds. If any man brings his action against me, he must describe me as a gentleman, or his action is null and void. I appeal to you – is this quite respectful? Really gentlemen – ’
‘Well, will you have the goodness to state your business then, Mr Brass?’ said the notary.
‘Sir,’ rejoined Brass, ‘I will. Ah Mr Witherden! you little know the – but I will not be tempted to travel from the point, sir, I believe the name of one of these gentlemen is Garland.’
‘Of both,’ said the notary.
‘In-deed!’ rejoined Brass, cringing excessively. ‘But I might have known that, from the uncommon likeness. Extremely happy, I am sure, to have the honour of an introduction to two such gentlemen, although the occasion is a most painful one. One of you gentlemen has a servant called Kit?’
‘Both,’ replied the notary.
'Two Kits?’ said Brass smiling. ‘Dear me!’
‘One Kit, sir,’ returned Mr Witherden angrily, ‘who is employed by both gentlemen. What of him?’
‘This of him, sir,’ rejoined Brass, dropping his voice impressively. ‘That young man, sir, that I have felt unbounded and unlimited confidence in, and always behaved to as if he was my equal – that young man has this morning committed a robbery in my office, and been taken almost in the fact.’
‘This must be some falsehood!’ cried the notary.
‘It is not possible,’ said Mr Abel.
‘I’ll not believe one word of it,’ exclaimed the old gentleman.
Mr Brass looked mildly round upon them, and rejoined,
‘Mr Witherden, sir, your words are actionable, and if I was a man of low and mean standing, who couldn’t afford to be slandered, I should proceed for damages. Hows’ever, sir, being what I am, I merely scorn such expressions. The honest warmth of the other gentleman I respect, and I’m truly sorry to be the messenger of such unpleasant news. I shouldn’t have put myself in this painful position, I assure you, but that the lad himself desired to be brought here in the first instance, and I yielded to his prayers. Mr Chuckster, sir, will you have the goodness to tap at the window for the constable that’s waiting in the coach?’
The three gentlemen looked at each other with blank faces when these words were uttered, and Mr Chuckster, doing as he was desired, and leaping off his stool with something of the excitement of an inspired prophet whose foretellings had in the fulness of time been realised, held the door open for the entrance of the wretched captive.
Such a scene as there was, when Kit came in, and bursting into the rude eloquence with which Truth at length inspired him, called Heaven to witness that he was innocent, and that how the property came to be found upon him he knew not! Such a confusion of tongues, before the circumstances were related, and the proofs disclosed! Such a dead silence when all was told, and his three friends exchanged looks of doubt and amazement!
