“Of course I do sir,” said Sampson.
“Of course you do,” retorted the dwarf, viciously snapping at his words. “Of course do you understand then, that it’s no matter what comes of this fellow? of course do you understand that for any other purpose he’s no man for me, nor for you?”
“I have frequently said to Sarah sir,” returned Brass, “that he was of no use at all in the business. You can’t put any confidence in him sir. If you’ll believe me I’ve found that fellow, in the commonest little matters of the office that have been trusted to him, blurting out the truth, though expressly cautioned. The aggravation of that chap sir, has exceeded anything you can imagine, it has indeed. Nothing but the respect and obligation I owe to you sir—”
As it was plain that Sampson was bent on a complimentary harangue, unless he received a timely interruption, Mr. Quilp politely tapped him on the crown of his head with the little saucepan, and requested that he would be so obliging as to hold his peace.
“Practical, sir, practical,” said Brass, rubbing the place and smiling; “but still extremely pleasant—immensely so!”
“Hearken to me, will you?” returned Quilp, “or I’ll be a little more pleasant, presently. There’s no chance of his comrade and friend returning. The scamp has been obliged to fly, as I learn, for some knavery, and has found his way abroad. Let him rot there.”
“Certainly sir. Quite proper.—Forcible!” cried Brass, glancing at the admiral again, as if he made a third in company. “Extremely forcible!”
“I hate him,” said Quilp between his teeth, “and have always hated him, for family reasons. Besides, he was an intractable ruffian; otherwise he would have been of use. This fellow is pigeon-hearted, and lightheaded. I don’t want him any longer. Let him hang or drown—starve—go to the devil.”
“By all means, sir,” returned Brass. “When would you wish him, sir, to—ha, ha!—to make that little excursion?”
“When this trial’s over,” said Quilp. “As soon as that’s ended, send him about his business.”
“It shall be done, sir,” returned Brass; “by all means. It will be rather a blow to Sarah, sir, but she has all her feelings under control. Ah, Mr. Quilp, I often think sir, if it had only pleased Providence to bring you and Sarah together in earlier life, what blessed results would have flowed from such a union. You never saw our dear father, sir?—A charming gentleman. Sarah was his pride and joy, sir. He would have closed his eyes in bliss, would Foxey, Mr. Quilp, if he could have found her such a partner. You esteem her, sir?”
“I love her,” croaked the dwarf.
“You’re very good, sir,” returned Brass, “I am sure. Is there any other order, sir, that I can take a note of, besides this little matter of Mr. Richard?”
“None,” replied the dwarf, seizing the saucepan. “Let us drink the lovely Sarah.”
“If we could do it in something, sir, that wasn’t quite boiling,” suggested Brass humbly, “perhaps it would be better. I think it will be more agreeable to her feelings, when she comes to hear from me of the honour you have done her, if she learns it was in liquor rather cooler than the last, sir.”
But to these remonstrances, Mr. Quilp turned a deaf ear. Sampson Brass, who was by this time anything but sober, being compelled to take further draughts of the same strong bowl, found that, instead of at all contributing to his recovery, they had the novel effect of making the countinghouse spin round and round with extreme velocity, and causing the floor and ceiling to heave in a very distressing manner. After a brief stupor, he awoke to a consciousness of being partly under the table and partly under the grate. This position not being the most comfortable one he could have chosen for himself, he managed to stagger to his feet, and holding on by the admiral, looked round for his host.
Mr. Brass’s first impression was, that his host was gone and had left him there alone—perhaps locked him in for the night. A strong smell of tobacco, however, suggesting a new train of ideas, he looked upwards, and saw that the dwarf was smoking in his hammock.
“Goodbye, sir,” cried Brass faintly. “Goodbye, sir.”
“Won’t you stop all night?” said the dwarf, peeping out. “Do stop all night.”
“I couldn’t indeed, sir,” replied Brass, who was almost dead from nausea and the closeness of the room. “If you’d have the goodness to show me a light, so that I may see my way across the yard, sir—”
Quilp was out in an instant; not with his legs first, or his head first, or his arms first, but bodily—altogether.
“To be sure,” he said, taking up a lantern, which was now the only light in the place. “Be careful how you go, my dear friend. Be sure to pick your way among the timber, for all the rusty nails are upwards. There’s a dog in the lane. He bit a man last night, and a woman the night before, and last Tuesday he killed a child—but that was in play. Don’t go too near him.”
“Which side of the road is he, sir?” asked Brass, in great dismay.
“He lives on the right hand,” said Quilp, “but sometimes he hides on the left, ready for a spring. He’s uncertain in that respect. Mind you take care of yourself. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t. There’s the light out—never mind—you know the way—straight on!”
Quilp had slyly shaded the light by holding it against his breast, and now stood chuckling and shaking from head to foot in a rapture of delight, as he heard the lawyer stumbling up the yard, and now and then falling heavily down. At length, however, he got quit of the place, and was out of hearing.
The dwarf shut himself up again, and sprung once more into his hammock.
LXIII
The professional gentleman who had given Kit that consolatory piece of information
