“Pull up, Snobby,” cried Mr. Chuckster, addressing himself to Kit. “You’re wanted inside here.”
“Has Mr. Abel forgotten anything, I wonder?” said Kit as he dismounted.
“Ask no questions, Snobby,” returned Mr. Chuckster, “but go and see. Woa-a-a then, will you? If that pony was mine, I’d break him.”
“You must be very gentle with him, if you please,” said Kit, “or you’ll find him troublesome. You’d better not keep on pulling his ears, please. I know he won’t like it.”
To this remonstrance Mr. Chuckster deigned no other answer, than addressing Kit with a lofty and distant air as “young feller,” and requesting him to cut, and come again with all speed. The “young feller” complying, Mr. Chuckster put his hands in his pockets, and tried to look as if he were not minding the pony, but happened to be lounging there by accident.
Kit scraped his shoes very carefully, (for he had not yet lost his reverence for the bundles of papers and the tin boxes,) and tapped at the office-door, which was quickly opened by the Notary himself.
“Oh! come in, Christopher,” said Mr. Witherden.
“Is that the lad?” asked an elderly gentleman, but of a stout, bluff figure—who was in the room.
“That’s the lad,” said Mr. Witherden. “He fell in with my client, Mr. Garland, sir, at this very door. I have reason to think he is a good lad, sir, and that you may believe what he says. Let me introduce Mr. Abel Garland, sir—his young master; my articled pupil, sir, and most particular friend. My most particular friend, sir,” repeated the Notary, drawing out his silk handkerchief and flourishing it about his face.
“Your servant, sir,” said the stranger gentleman.
“Yours, sir, I’m sure,” replied Mr. Abel mildly. “You were wishing to speak to Christopher, sir?”
“Yes, I was. Have I your permission?”
“By all means.”
“My business is no secret; or I should rather say it need be no secret here,” said the stranger, observing that Mr. Abel and the Notary were preparing to retire. “It relates to a dealer in curiosities with whom he lived, and in whom I am earnestly and warmly interested. I have been a stranger to this country, gentlemen, for very many years, and if I am deficient in form and ceremony, I hope you will forgive me.”
“No forgiveness is necessary, sir;—none whatever,” replied the Notary, and so said Mr. Abel.
“I have been making inquiries in the neighbourhood in which his old master lived,” said the stranger, “and I learnt that he had been served by this lad. I found out his mother’s house, and was directed by her to this place as the nearest in which I should be likely to find him. That’s the cause of my presenting myself here this morning.”
“I am very glad of any cause, sir,” said the Notary, “which procures me the honour of this visit.”
“Sir,” retorted the stranger, “you speak like a mere man of the world, and I think you something better. Therefore, pray do not sink your real character in paying unmeaning compliments to me.”
“Hem!” coughed the Notary. “You’re a plain speaker, sir.”
“And a plain dealer,” returned the stranger. “It may be my long absence and inexperience that lead me to the conclusion, but if plain speakers are scarce in this part of the world, I fancy that plain dealers are still scarcer. If my speaking should offend you, sir, my dealing, I hope, will make amends.”
Mr. Witherden seemed a little disconcerted by the elderly gentleman’s mode of conducting the dialogue; and as for Kit, he looked at him in open-mouthed astonishment, wondering what kind of language he would address to him, if he talked in that free and easy way to a Notary. It was with no harshness, however, though with something of constitutional irritability and haste, that he turned to Kit and said:
“If you think, my lad, that I am pursuing these inquiries with any other view than that of serving and reclaiming those I am in search of, you do me a very great wrong, and deceive yourself. Don’t be deceived, I beg of you, but rely upon my assurance. The fact is, gentlemen,” he added, turning again to the Notary and his pupil, “that I am in a very painful and wholly unexpected position. I came to this city with a darling object at my heart, expecting to find no obstacle or difficulty in the way of its attainment. I find myself suddenly checked and stopped short in the execution of my design, by a mystery which I cannot penetrate. Every effort I have made to penetrate it, has only served to render it darker and more obscure; and I am afraid to stir openly in the matter, lest those whom I anxiously pursue, should fly still further from me. I assure you that if you could give me any assistance, you would not be sorry to do so, if you knew how greatly I stand in need of it, and what a load it would relieve me from.”
There was a simplicity in this confidence which occasioned it to find a quick response in the breast of the good-natured Notary, who replied, in the same spirit, that the stranger had not mistaken his desire, and that if he could be of service to him, he would most readily.
Kit was then put under examination and closely questioned by the unknown gentleman touching his old master and the child, their lonely way of life, their retired habits, and strict seclusion. The nightly absence of the old man, the solitary existence of the child at those times, his illness and recovery, Quilp’s possession of the house, and their sudden disappearance, were all the subjects of much questioning and answer. Finally, Kit informed the gentleman that the premises were now to let, and that a board upon the door referred all inquirers to Mr. Sampson Brass, Solicitor, of Bevis Marks, from whom he might perhaps learn some further particulars.
“Not
