"With which view," continued Mr.Pickwick, "I made use of the argument which my experience of men has taught me is the most likely to succeed in any case.""Ay, ay," said the little man, "very good, very good, indeed; but you should have suggested it to me.My dear sir, I'm quite certain you cannot be ignorant of the extent of confidence which must be placed in professional men.If any authority can be necessary on such a point, my dear sir, let me refer you to the well-known case in Barnwell and--""Never mind George Barnwell," interrupted Sam, who had remained a wondering listener during this short colloquy; "everybody knows vhat sort of a case his was, tho' it's always been my opinion, mind you, that the young 'ooman deserved scragging a precious sight more than he did.Hows'ever, that's neither here nor there.You want me to except of half a guinea.Werry well, I'm agreeable: I can't say no fairer than that, can I, sir? (Mr.Pickwick smiled.) Then the next question is, what the devil do you want with me, as the man said wen he see the ghost?""We want to know--" said Mr.Wardle.
"Now, my dear sir--my dear sir," interposed the busy little man.
Mr.Wardle shrugged his shoulders, and was silent.
"We want to know," said the little man, solemnly; "and we ask the question of you, in order that we may not awaken apprehensions inside--we want to know who you've got in this house, at present?""Who there is in the house!" said Sam, in whose mind the inmates were always represented by that particular article of their costume, which came under his immediate superintendence."There's a wooden leg in number six;there's a pair of Hessians in thirteen; there's two pair of halves in the commercial; there's these here painted tops in the snuggery inside the bar; and five more tops in the coffee-room.""Nothing more?" said the little man.
"Stop a bit," replied Sam, suddenly recollecting himself."Yes; there's a pair o' Wellingtons a good deal worn, and a pair of lady's shoes, in number five.""What sort of shoes?" hastily inquired Wardle, who, together with Mr.
Pickwick, had been lost in bewilderment at the singular catalogue of visitors.
"Country make," replied Sam.
"Any maker's name?"
"Brown."
"Where of?"
"Muggleton."
"It is them," exclaimed Wardle."By Heavens, we've found them.""Hush!" said Sam."The Wellingtons has gone to Doctors' Commons.""No," said the little man.
"Yes, for a licence."
"We're in time," exclaimed Wardle."Show us the room; not a moment is to be lost.""Pray, my dear sir--pray," said the little man; "caution, caution."He drew from his pocket a red silk purse, and looked very hard at Sam as he drew out a sovereign.
Sam grinned expressively.
"Show us into the room at once, without announcing us," said the little man, "and it's yours."Sam threw the painted tops into a corner, and led the way through a dark passage, and up a wide staircase.He paused at the end of a second passage, and held out his hand.
"Here it is," whispered the attorney, as he deposited the money in the hand of their guide.
The man stepped forward for a few paces followed by the two friends and their legal adviser.He stopped at a door.
"Is this the room?" murmured the little gentleman.
Sam nodded assent.
Old Wardle opened the door; and the whole three walked into the room just as Mr.Jingle, who had that moment returned, had produced the licence to the spinster aunt.
The spinster uttered a loud shriek, and, throwing herself in a chair, covered her face with her hands.Mr.Jingle crumpled up the licence, and thrust it into his coat-pocket.The unwelcome visitors advanced into the middle of the room.
"You--you are a nice rascal, arn't you?" exclaimed Wardle, breathless with passion.
"My dear sir, my dear sir," said the little man, laying his hat on the table."Pray, consider--pray.Defamation of character: action for damages.
Calm yourself, my dear sir, pray--"
"How dare you drag my sister from my house?" said the old man.
"Ay--ay--very good," said the little gentleman, "you may ask that.How dare you, sir?--eh, sir?""Who the devil are you?" inquired Mr.Jingle, in so fierce a tone, that the little gentleman involuntarily fell back a step or two.
"Who is he, you scoundrel," interposed Wardle."He's my lawyer, Mr.
Perker, of Gray's Inn.Perker, I'll have this fellow prosecuted--indicted--I'll--I'll--I'll ruin him.And you," continued Mr.Wardle, turning abruptly round to his sister, "you, Rachael, at a time of life when you ought to know better, what do you mean by running away with a vagabond, disgracing you family, and making yourself miserable.Get on your bonnet, and come back.
Call a hackney-coach there, directly, and bring this lady's bill, d'ye hear--d'ye hear?""Cert'nly, sir," replied Sam, who had answered Wardle's violent ringing of the bell with a degree of celerity which must have appeared marvellous to anybody who didn't know that his eye had been applied to the outside of the keyhole during the whole interview.
"Get on your bonnet," repeated Wardle.
"Do nothing of the kind," said Jingle."Leave the room, sir--no business here--lady's free to act as she pleases--more than one-and-twenty.""More than one-and-twenty!" ejaculated Wardle, contemptuously."More than one-and-forty!""I an't," said the spinster aunt, her indignation getting the better of her determination to faint.**"You are," replied Wardle, "you're fifty if you're an hour."Here the spinster aunt uttered a loud shriek, and became senseless.
"A glass of water," said the humane Mr.Pickwick, summoning the landlady.