Mr. Tigg was about to speak, but Martin interposed:
“I need scarcely tell you, after what you have just seen, that I have nothing to bestow upon your friend Mr. Slyme. And it is quite as unnecessary for me to tell you that I don’t desire the honour of your company.”
“Stop” cried Mr. Tigg, holding out his hand. “Hold! There is a most remarkably long-headed, flowing-bearded, and patriarchal proverb, which observes that it is the duty of a man to be just before he is generous. Be just now, and you can be generous presently. Do not confuse me with the man Slyme. Do not distinguish the man Slyme as a friend of mine, for he is no such thing. I have been compelled, sir, to abandon the party whom you call Slyme. I have no knowledge of the party whom you call Slyme. I am, sir,” said Mr. Tigg, striking himself upon the breast, “a premium tulip, of a very different growth and cultivation from the cabbage Slyme, sir.”
“It matters very little to me,” said Martin coolly, “whether you have set up as a vagabond on your own account, or are still trading on behalf of Mr. Slyme. I wish to hold no correspondence with you. In the devil’s name, man” said Martin, scarcely able, despite his vexation, to repress a smile as Mr. Tigg stood leaning his back against the shutters of a shop window, adjusting his hair with great composure, “will you go one way or other?”
“You will allow me to remind you, sir,” said Mr. Tigg, with sudden dignity, “that you—not I—that you—I say emphatically, you—have reduced the proceedings of this evening to a cold and distant matter of business, when I was disposed to place them on a friendly footing. It being made a matter of business, sir, I beg to say that I expect a trifle (which I shall bestow in charity) as commission upon the pecuniary advance in which I have rendered you my humble services. After the terms in which you have addressed me, sir,” concluded Mr. Tigg, “you will not insult me, if you please, by offering more than half-a-crown.”
Martin drew that piece of money from his pocket, and tossed it towards him. Mr. Tigg caught it, looked at it to assure himself of its goodness, spun it in the air after the manner of a pieman, and buttoned it up. Finally, he raised his hat an inch or two from his head with a military air, and, after pausing a moment with deep gravity, as to decide in which direction he should go, and to what Earl or Marquis among his friends he should give the preference in his next call, stuck his hands in his skirt-pockets and swaggered round the corner. Martin took the directly opposite course; and so, to his great content, they parted company.
It was with a bitter sense of humiliation that he cursed, again and again, the mischance of having encountered this man in the pawnbroker’s shop. The only comfort he had in the recollection was, Mr. Tigg’s voluntary avowal of a separation between himself and Slyme, that would at least prevent his circumstances (so Martin argued) from being known to any member of his family, the bare possibility of which filled him with shame and wounded pride. Abstractedly there was greater reason, perhaps, for supposing any declaration of Mr. Tigg’s to be false, than for attaching the least credence to it; but remembering the terms on which the intimacy between that gentleman and his bosom friend had subsisted, and the strong probability of Mr. Tigg’s having established an independent business of his own on Mr. Slyme’s connection, it had a reasonable appearance of probability; at all events, Martin hoped so; and that went a long way.
His first step, now that he had a supply of ready money for his present necessities, was, to retain his bed at the public-house until further notice, and to write a formal note to Tom Pinch (for he knew Pecksniff would see it) requesting to have his clothes forwarded to London by coach, with a direction to be left at the office until called for. These measures taken, he passed the interval before the box arrived—three days—in making inquiries relative to American vessels, at the offices of various shipping-agents in the city; and in lingering about the docks and wharves, with the faint hope of stumbling upon some engagement for the voyage, as clerk or supercargo, or custodian of something or somebody, which would enable him to procure a free passage. But finding, soon, that no such means of employment were likely to present themselves, and dreading the consequences of delay, he drew up a short advertisement, stating what he wanted, and inserted it in the leading newspapers. Pending the receipt of the twenty or thirty answers which he vaguely expected, he reduced his wardrobe to the narrowest limits consistent with decent respectability, and carried the overplus at different times to the pawnbroker’s shop, for conversion into money.
And it was strange, very strange, even to himself, to find how, by quick though almost imperceptible degrees, he lost his delicacy and self-respect, and gradually came to do that as a matter of course, without the least compunction, which but a few short days before had galled him to the quick. The first time he visited the pawnbroker’s, he felt on his way there as if every person whom he passed suspected whither he was going; and on his way back again, as if the whole human tide he stemmed, knew well where he had come from. When did he care to think of their discernment now! In his first wanderings up and down the weary streets, he counterfeited the walk of one who had an object in his view; but soon there came upon him the sauntering, slipshod gait of listless idleness and the lounging at street-corners, and
