“Is that all?” said Ralph, still eyeing his companion with the same steady look, and moving nothing but his lips.
“It depends on you, Mr. Nickleby, whether that’s all or not,” was the rejoinder.
“Why then, harkye, Mr.—, I don’t know by what name I am to call you,” said Ralph.
“By my old one, if you like.”
“Why then, harkye, Mr. Brooker,” said Ralph, in his harshest accents, “and don’t expect to draw another speech from me. Harkye, sir. I know you of old for a ready scoundrel, but you never had a stout heart; and hard work, with (maybe) chains upon those legs of yours, and shorter food than when I ‘pinched’ and ‘ground’ you, has blunted your wits, or you would not come with such a tale as this to me. You a hold upon me! Keep it, or publish it to the world, if you like.”
“I can’t do that,” interposed Brooker. “That wouldn’t serve me.”
“Wouldn’t it?” said Ralph. “It will serve you as much as bringing it to me, I promise you. To be plain with you, I am a careful man, and know my affairs thoroughly. I know the world, and the world knows me. Whatever you gleaned, or heard, or saw, when you served me, the world knows and magnifies already. You could tell it nothing that would surprise it, unless, indeed, it redounded to my credit or honour, and then it would scout you for a liar. And yet I don’t find business slack, or clients scrupulous. Quite the contrary. I am reviled or threatened every day by one man or another,” said Ralph; “but things roll on just the same, and I don’t grow poorer either.”
“I neither revile nor threaten,” rejoined the man. “I can tell you of what you have lost by my act, what I only can restore, and what, if I die without restoring, dies with me, and never can be regained.”
“I tell my money pretty accurately, and generally keep it in my own custody,” said Ralph. “I look sharply after most men that I deal with, and most of all I looked sharply after you. You are welcome to all you have kept from me.”
“Are those of your own name dear to you?” said the man emphatically. “If they are—”
“They are not,” returned Ralph, exasperated at this perseverance, and the thought of Nicholas, which the last question awakened. “They are not. If you had come as a common beggar, I might have thrown a sixpence to you in remembrance of the clever knave you used to be; but since you try to palm these stale tricks upon one you might have known better, I’ll not part with a halfpenny—nor would I to save you from rotting. And remember this, ’scape-gallows,” said Ralph, menacing him with his hand, “that if we meet again, and you so much as notice me by one begging gesture, you shall see the inside of a jail once more, and tighten this hold upon me in intervals of the hard labour that vagabonds are put to. There’s my answer to your trash. Take it.”
With a disdainful scowl at the object of his anger, who met his eye but uttered not a word, Ralph walked away at his usual pace, without manifesting the slightest curiosity to see what became of his late companion, or indeed once looking behind him. The man remained on the same spot with his eyes fixed upon his retreating figure until it was lost to view, and then drawing his arm about his chest, as if the damp and lack of food struck coldly to him, lingered with slouching steps by the wayside, and begged of those who passed along.
Ralph, in nowise moved by what had lately passed, further than as he had already expressed himself, walked deliberately on, and turning out of the Park and leaving Golden Square on his right, took his way through some streets at the west end of the town until he arrived in that particular one in which stood the residence of Madame Mantalini. The name of that lady no longer appeared on the flaming doorplate, that of Miss Knag being substituted in its stead; but the bonnets and dresses were still dimly visible in the first-floor windows by the decaying light of a summer’s evening, and excepting this ostensible alteration in the proprietorship, the establishment wore its old appearance.
“Humph!” muttered Ralph, drawing his hand across his mouth with a connoisseur-like air, and surveying the house from top to bottom; “these people look pretty well. They can’t last long; but if I know of their going in good time, I am safe, and a fair profit too. I must keep them closely in view; that’s all.”
So, nodding his head very complacently, Ralph was leaving the spot, when his quick ear caught the sound of a confused noise and hubbub of voices, mingled with a great running up and down stairs, in the very house which had been the subject of his scrutiny; and while he was hesitating whether to knock at the door or listen at the keyhole a little longer, a female servant of Madame Mantalini’s (whom he had often seen) opened it abruptly and bounced out, with her blue cap-ribbons streaming in the air.
“Hallo here. Stop!” cried Ralph. “What’s the matter? Here am I. Didn’t you hear me knock?”
“Oh! Mr. Nickleby, sir,” said the girl. “Go up, for the love of Gracious. Master’s been and done it again.”
“Done what?” said Ralph,
