Chapter 56

Ralph Nickleby, baffled by his Nephew in his lateDesign, hatches a Scheme of Retaliation whichAccident suggests to him, and takes into hisCounsels a tried Auxiliary.

　　The course which these adventures shape out forthemselves, and imperatively call upon the historian toobserve, now demands that they should revert to the pointthey attained previously to the commencement of the last chapter,when Ralph Nickleby and Arthur Gride were left together in thehouse where death had so suddenly reared his dark and heavybanner.

　　With clenched hands, and teeth ground together so firm andtight that no locking of the jaws could have fixed and riveted themmore securely, Ralph stood, for some minutes, in the attitude inwhich he had last addressed his nephew: breathing heavily, but asrigid and motionless in other respects as if he had been a brazenstatue. After a time, he began, by slow degrees, as a man rousinghimself from heavy slumber, to relax. For a moment he shook hisclasped fist towards the door by which Nicholas had disappeared;and then thrusting it into his breast, as if to repress by force eventhis show of passion, turned round and confronted the less hardyusurer, who had not yet risen from the ground.

　　The cowering wretch, who still shook in every limb, and whosefew grey hairs trembled and quivered on his head with abjectdismay, tottered to his feet as he met Ralph’s eye, and, shielding  1030his face with both hands, protested, while he crept towards thedoor, that it was no fault of his.

　　‘Who said it was, man?’ returned Ralph, in a suppressed voice.

　　‘Who said it was?’

　　‘You looked as if you thought I was to blame,’ said Gride,timidly.

　　‘Pshaw!’ Ralph muttered, forcing a laugh. ‘I blame him for notliving an hour longer. One hour longer would have been longenough. I blame no one else.’

　　‘N—n—no one else?’ said Gride.

　　‘Not for this mischance,’ replied Ralph. ‘I have an old score toclear with that young fellow who has carried off your mistress; butthat has nothing to do with his blustering just now, for we shouldsoon have been quit of him, but for this cursed accident.’

　　There was something so unnatural in the calmness with whichRalph Nickleby spoke, when coupled with his face, the expressionof the features, to which every nerve and muscle, as it twitchedand throbbed with a spasm whose workings no effort couldconceal, gave, every instant, some new and frightful aspect—therewas something so unnatural and ghastly in the contrast betweenhis harsh, slow, steady voice (only altered by a certain halting ofthe breath which made him pause between almost every word likea drunken man bent upon speaking plainly), and these evidencesof the most intense and violent passion, and the struggle he madeto keep them under; that if the dead body which lay above hadstood, instead of him, before the cowering Gride, it could scarcelyhave presented a spectacle which would have terrified him more.

　　‘The coach,’ said Ralph after a time, during which he hadstruggled like some strong man against a fit. ‘We came in a coach.

　　  1031Is it waiting?’

　　Gride gladly availed himself of the pretext for going to thewindow to see. Ralph, keeping his face steadily the other way, toreat his shirt with the hand which he had thrust into his breast, andmuttered in a hoarse whisper:

　　‘Ten thousand pounds! He said ten thousand! The precise sumpaid in but yesterday for the two mortgages, and which wouldhave gone out again, at heavy interest, tomorrow. If that house hasfailed, and he the first to bring the news!—Is the coach there?’

　　‘Yes, yes,’ said Gride, startled by the fierce tone of the inquiry.

　　‘It’s here. Dear, dear, what a fiery man you are!’

　　‘Come here,’ said Ralph, beckoning to him. ‘We mustn’t make ashow of being disturbed. We’ll go down arm in arm.’

　　‘But you pinch me black and blue,’ urged Gride.

　　Ralph let him go impatiently, and descending the stairs with hisusual firm and heavy tread, got into the coach. Arthur Gridefollowed. After looking doubtfully at Ralph when the man askedwhere he was to drive, and finding that he remained silent, andexpressed no wish upon the subject, Arthur mentioned his ownhouse, and thither they proceeded.

　　On their way, Ralph sat in the furthest corner with folded arms,and uttered not a word. With his chin sunk upon his breast, andhis downcast eyes quite hidden by the contraction of his knottedbrows, he might have been asleep for any sign of consciousness hegave until the coach stopped, when he raised his head, andglancing through the window, inquired what place that was.

　　‘My house,’ answered the disconsolate Gride, affected perhapsby its loneliness. ‘Oh dear! my house.’

　　‘True,’ said Ralph ‘I have not observed the way we came. I  1032should like a glass of water. You have that in the house, Isuppose?’

　　‘You shall have a glass of—of anything you like,’ answeredGride, with a groan. ‘It’s no use knocking, coachman. Ring thebell!’

　　The man rang, and rang, and rang again; then, knocked untilthe street re-echoed with the sounds; then, listened at the keyholeof the door. Nobody came. The house was silent as the grave.

　　‘How’s this?’ said Ralph impatiently.

　　‘Peg is so very deaf,’ answered Gride with a look of anxiety andalarm. ‘Oh dear! Ring again, coachman. She sees the bell.’

　　Again the man rang and knocked, and knocked and rang again.

　　Some of the neighbours threw up their windows, and called acrossthe street to each other that old Gride’s housekeeper must havedropped down dead. Others collected round the coach, and gavevent to various surmises; some held that she had fallen asleep;some, that she had burnt herself to death; some, that she had gotdrunk; and one very fat man that she had seen something to eatwhich had frightened her so much (not being used to it) that shehad fallen into a fit. This last suggestion particularly delighted thebystanders, who cheered it rather uproariously, and were, withsome difficulty, deterred from dropping down the area andbreaking open the kitchen door to ascertain the fact. Nor was thisall. Rumours having gone abroad that Arthur was to be marriedthat morning, very particular inquiries were made after the bride,who was held by the majority to be disguised in the person of MrRalph Nickleby, which gave rise to much jocose indignation at thepublic appearance of a bride in boots and pantaloons, and calledforth a great many hoots and groans. At length, the two money-  1033lenders obtained shelter in a house next door, and, beingaccommodated with a ladder, clambered over the wall of the backyard—which was not a high one—and descended in safety on theother side.

　　‘I am almost afraid to go in, I declare,’ said Arthur, turning toRalph when they were alone. ‘Suppose she should be murdered.

　　Lying with her brains knocked out by a poker, eh?’

　　‘Suppose she were,’ said Ralph. ‘I tell you, I wish such thingswere more common than they are, and more easily done. You maystare and shiver. I do!’

　　He applied himself to a pump in the yard; and, having taken adeep draught of water and flung a quantity on his head and face,regained his accustomed manner and led the way into the house:

　　Gride following close at his heels.

　　It was the same dark place as ever: every room dismal andsilent as it was wont to be, and every ghostly article of furniture inits customary place. The iron heart of the grim old clock,undisturbed by all the noise without, still beat heavily within itsdusty case; the tottering presses slunk from the sight, as usual, intheir melancholy corners; the echoes of footsteps returned thesame dreary sound; the long-legged spider paused in his nimblerun, and, scared by the sight of men in that his dull domain, hungmotionless on the wall, counterfeiting death until they should havepassed him by.

　　From cellar to garret went the two usurers, opening everycreaking door and looking into every deserted room. But no Pegwas there. At last, they sat them down in the apartment whichArthur Gride usually inhabited, to rest after their search.

　　‘The hag is out, on some preparation for your wedding  1034festivities, I suppose,’ said Ralph, preparing to depart. ‘See here! Idestroy the bond; we shall never need it now.’

　　Gride, who had been peering narrowly about the room, fell, atthat moment, upon his knees before a large chest, and uttered aterrible yell.

　　‘How now?’ said Ralph, looking sternly round.

　　‘Robbed! robbed!’ screamed Arthur Gride.

　　‘Robbed! of money?’

　　‘No, no, no. Worse! far worse!’

　　‘Of what then?’ demanded Ralph.

　　‘Worse than money, worse than money!’ cried the old man,casting the papers out of the chest, like some beast tearing up theearth. ‘She had better have stolen money—all my money—Ihaven’t much! She had better have made me a beggar than havedone this!’

　　‘Done what?’ said Ralph. ‘Done what, you devil’s dotard?’

　　Still Gride made no answer, but tore and scratched among thepapers, and yelled and screeched like a fiend in torment.

　　‘There is something missing, you say,’ said Ralph, shaking himfuriously by the collar. ‘What is it?’

　　‘Papers, deeds. I am a ruined man. Lost, lost! I am robbed, I amruined! She saw me reading it—reading it of late—I did veryoften—She watched me, saw me put it in the box that fitted intothis, the box is gone, she has stolen it. Damnation seize her, shehas robbed me!’

　　‘Of what?’ cried Ralph, on whom a sudden light appeared tobreak, for his eyes flashed and his frame trembled with agitationas he clutched Gride by his bony arm. ‘Of what?’

　　‘She don’t know what it is; she can’t read!’ shrieked Gride, not  1035heeding the inquiry. ‘There’s only one way in which money can bemade of it, and that is by taking it to her. Somebody will read it forher, and tell her what to do. She and her accomplice will getmoney for it and be let off besides; they’ll make a merit of it—saythey found it—knew it—and be evidence against me. The onlyperson it will fall upon is me, me, me!’

　　‘Patience!’ said Ralph, clutching him still tighter and eyeinghim with a sidelong look, so fixed and eager as sufficiently todenote that he had some hidden purpose in what he was about tosay. ‘Hear reason. She can’t have been gone long. I’ll call thepolice. Do you but give information of what she has stolen, andthey’ll lay hands upon her, trust me. Here! Help!’

　　‘No, no, no!’ screamed the old man, putting his hand on Ralph’smouth. ‘I can’t, I daren’t.’

　　‘Help! help!’ cried Ralph.

　　‘No, no, no!’ shrieked the other, stamping on the ground withthe energy of a madman. ‘I tell you no. I daren’t, I daren’t!’

　　‘Daren’t make this robbery public?’ said Ralph.

　　‘No!’ rejoined Gride, wringing his hands. ‘Hush! Hush! Not aword of this; not a word must be said. I am undone. Whicheverway I turn, I am undone. I am betrayed. I shall be given up. I shalldie in Newgate!’ With frantic exclamations such as these, and withmany others in which fear, grief, and rage, were strangelyblended, the panic-stricken wretch gradually subdued his firstloud outcry, until it had softened down into a low despairingmoan, chequered now and then by a howl, as, going over suchpapers as were left in the chest, he discovered some new loss. Withvery little excuse for departing so abruptly, Ralph left him, and,greatly disappointing the loiterers outside the house by telling  1036them there was nothing the matter, got into the coach, and wasdriven to his own home.

　　A letter lay on his table. He let it lie there for some time, as if hehad not the courage to open it, but at length did so and turneddeadly pale.

　　‘The worst has happened,’ he said; ‘the house has failed. I see.

　　The rumour was abroad in the city last night, and reached the earsof those merchants. Well, well!’

　　He strode violently up and down the room and stopped again.

　　‘Ten thousand pounds! And only lying there for a day—for oneday! How many anxious years, how many pinching days andsleepless nights, before I scraped together that ten thousandpounds!—Ten thousand pounds! How many proud painted dameswould have fawned and smiled, and how many spendthriftblockheads done me lip-service to my face and cursed me in theirhearts, while I turned that ten thousand pounds into twenty!

　　While I ground, and pinched, and used these needy borrowers formy pleasure and profit, what smooth-tongued speeches, andcourteous looks, and civil letters, they would have given me! Thecant of the lying world is, that men like me compass our riches bydissimulation and treachery: by fawning, cringing, and stooping.

　　Why, how many lies, what mean and abject evasions, whathumbled behaviour from upstarts who, but for my money, wouldspurn me aside as they do their betters every day, would that tenthousand pounds have brought me in! Grant that I had doubledit—made cent. per cent.—for every sovereign told another—therewould not be one piece of money in all the heap which wouldn’trepresent ten thousand mean and paltry lies, told, not by themoney-lender, oh no! but by the money-borrowers, your liberal,  1037thoughtless, generous, dashing folks, who wouldn’t be so mean assave a sixpence for the world!’

　　Striving, as it would seem, to lose part of the bitterness of hisregrets in the bitterness of these other thoughts, Ralph continuedto pace the room. There was less and less of resolution in hismanner as his mind gradually reverted to his loss; at length,dropping into his elbow-chair and grasping its sides so firmly thatthey creaked again, he said:

　　‘The time has been when nothing could have moved me like theloss of this great sum. Nothing. For births, deaths, marriages, andall the events which are of interest to most men, have (unless theyare connected with gain or loss of money) no interest for me. Butnow, I swear, I mix up with the loss, his triumph in telling it. If hehad brought it about,—I almost feel as if he had,—I couldn’t hatehim more. Let me but retaliate upon him, by degrees, howeverslow—let me but begin to get the better of him, let me but turn thescale—and I can bear it.’

　　His meditations were long and deep. They terminated in hisdispatching a letter by Newman, addressed to Mr Squeers at theSaracen’s Head, with instructions to inquire whether he hadarrived in town, and, if so, to wait an answer. Newman broughtback the information that Mr Squeers had come by mail thatmorning, and had received the letter in bed; but that he sent hisduty, and word that he would get up and wait upon Mr Nicklebydirectly.

　　The interval between the delivery of this message, and thearrival of Mr Squeers, was very short; but, before he came, Ralphhad suppressed every sign of emotion, and once more regained thehard, immovable, inflexible manner which was habitual to him,  1038and to which, perhaps, was ascribable no small part of theinfluence which, over many men of no very strong prejudices onthe score of morality, he could exert, almost at will.

　　‘Well, Mr Squeers,’ he said, welcoming that worthy with hisaccustomed smile, of which a sharp look and a thoughtful frownwere part and parcel: ‘how do you do?’

　　‘Why, sir,’ said Mr Squeers, ‘I’m pretty well. So’s the family, andso’s the boys, except for a sort of rash as is a running through theschool, and rather puts ’em off their feed. But it’s a ill wind asblows no good to nobody; that’s what I always say when them ladshas a wisitation. A wisitation, sir, is the lot of mortality. Mortalityitself, sir, is a wisitation. The world is chock full of wisitations; andif a boy repines at a wisitation and makes you uncomfortable withhis noise, he must have his head punched. That’s going accordingto the Scripter, that is.’

　　‘Mr Squeers,’ said Ralph, drily.

　　‘Sir.’

　　‘We’ll avoid these precious morsels of morality if you please,and talk of business.’

　　‘With all my heart, sir,’ rejoined Squeers, ‘and first let me say—’

　　‘First let me say, if you please.—Noggs!’

　　Newman presented himself when the summons had been twiceor thrice repeated, and asked if his master called.

　　‘I did. Go to your dinner. And go at once. Do you hear?’

　　‘It an’t time,’ said Newman, doggedly.

　　‘My time is yours, and I say it is,’ returned Ralph.

　　‘You alter it every day,’ said Newman. ‘It isn’t fair.’

　　‘You don’t keep many cooks, and can easily apologise to themfor the trouble,’ retorted Ralph. ‘Begone, sir!’

　　  1039Ralph not only issued this order in his most peremptorymanner, but, under pretence of fetching some papers from thelittle office, saw it obeyed, and, when Newman had left the house,chained the door, to prevent the possibility of his returningsecretly, by means of his latch-key.

　　‘I have reason to suspect that fellow,’ said Ralph, when hereturned to his own office. ‘Therefore, until I have thought of theshortest and least troublesome way of ruining him, I hold it best tokeep him at a distance.’

　　‘It wouldn’t take much to ruin him, I should think,’ saidSqueers, with a grin.

　　‘Perhaps not,’ answered Ralph. ‘Nor to ruin a great manypeople whom I know. You were going to say—?’

　　Ralph’s summary and matter-of-course way of holding up thisexample, and throwing out the hint that followed it, had evidentlyan effect (as doubtless it was designed to have) upon Mr Squeers,who said, after a little hesitation and in a much more subduedtone:

　　‘Why, what I was a-going to say, sir, is, that this here businessregarding of that ungrateful and hard-hearted chap, Snawleysenior, puts me out of my way, and occasions a inconveniencyquite unparalleled, besides, as I may say, making, for whole weekstogether, Mrs Squeers a perfect widder. It’s a pleasure to me to actwith you, of course.’

　　‘Of course,’ said Ralph, drily.

　　‘Yes, I say of course,’ resumed Mr Squeers, rubbing his knees,‘but at the same time, when one comes, as I do now, better thantwo hundred and fifty mile to take a afferdavid, it does put a manout a good deal, letting alone the risk.’

　　  1040‘And where may the risk be, Mr Squeers?’ said Ralph.

　　‘I said, letting alone the risk,’ replied Squeers, evasively.

　　‘And I said, where was the risk?’

　　‘I wasn’t complaining, you know, Mr Nickleby,’ pleadedSqueers. ‘Upon my word I never see such a—’

　　‘I ask you where is the risk?’ repeated Ralph, emphatically.

　　‘Where the risk?’ returned Squeers, rubbing his knees stillharder. ‘Why, it an’t necessary to mention. Certain subjects is bestawoided. Oh, you know what risk I mean.’

　　‘How often have I told you,’ said Ralph, ‘and how often am I totell you, that you run no risk? What have you sworn, or what areyou asked to swear, but that at such and such a time a boy was leftwith you in the name of Smike; that he was at your school for agiven number of years, was lost under such and suchcircumstances, is now found, and has been identified by you insuch and such keeping? This is all true; is it not?’

　　‘Yes,’ replied Squeers, ‘that’s all true.’

　　‘Well, then,’ said Ralph, ‘what risk do you run? Who swears to alie but Snawley; a man whom I have paid much less than I haveyou?’

　　‘He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley,’ observed Squeers.

　　‘He did it cheap!’ retorted Ralph, testily; ‘yes, and he did it well,and carries it off with a hypocritical face and a sanctified air, butyou! Risk! What do you mean by risk? The certificates are allgenuine, Snawley had another son, he has been married twice, hisfirst wife is dead, none but her ghost could tell that she didn’twrite that letter, none but Snawley himself can tell that this is nothis son, and that his son is food for worms! The only perjury isSnawley’s, and I fancy he is pretty well used to it. Where’s your  1041risk?’

　　‘Why, you know,’ said Squeers, fidgeting in his chair, ‘if youcome to that, I might say where’s yours?’

　　‘You might say where’s mine!’ returned Ralph; ‘you may saywhere’s mine. I don’t appear in the business, neither do you. AllSnawley’s interest is to stick well to the story he has told; and allhis risk is, to depart from it in the least. Talk of your risk in theconspiracy!’

　　‘I say,’ remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round: ‘don’tcall it that! Just as a favour, don’t.’

　　‘Call it what you like,’ said Ralph, irritably, ‘but attend to me.

　　This tale was originally fabricated as a means of annoyanceagainst one who hurt your trade and half cudgelled you to death,and to enable you to obtain repossession of a half-dead drudge,whom you wished to regain, because, while you wreaked yourvengeance on him for his share in the business, you knew that theknowledge that he was again in your power would be the bestpunishment you could inflict upon your enemy. Is that so, MrSqueers?’

　　‘Why, sir,’ returned Squeers, almost overpowered by thedetermination which Ralph displayed to make everything tellagainst him, and by his stern unyielding manner, ‘in a measure itwas.’

　　‘What does that mean?’ said Ralph.

　　‘Why, in a measure means,” returned Squeers, ‘as it may be,that it wasn’t all on my account, because you had some old grudgeto satisfy, too.’

　　‘If I had not had,’ said Ralph, in no way abashed by thereminder, ‘do you think I should have helped you?’

　　  1042‘Why no, I don’t suppose you would,’ Squeers replied. ‘I onlywanted that point to be all square and straight between us.’

　　‘How can it ever be otherwise?’ retorted Ralph. ‘Except that theaccount is against me, for I spend money to gratify my hatred, andyou pocket it, and gratify yours at the same time. You are, at least,as avaricious as you are revengeful. So am I. Which is best off?

　　You, who win money and revenge, at the same time and by thesame process, and who are, at all events, sure of money, if not ofrevenge; or I, who am only sure of spending money in any case,and can but win bare revenge at last?’

　　As Mr Squeers could only answer this proposition by shrugsand smiles, Ralph bade him be silent, and thankful that he was sowell off; and then, fixing his eyes steadily upon him, proceeded tosay:

　　First, that Nicholas had thwarted him in a plan he had formedfor the disposal in marriage of a certain young lady, and had, inthe confusion attendant on her father’s sudden death, secured thatlady himself, and borne her off in triumph.

　　Secondly, that by some will or settlement—certainly by someinstrument in writing, which must contain the young lady’s name,and could be, therefore, easily selected from others, if access to theplace where it was deposited were once secured—she was entitledto property which, if the existence of this deed ever became knownto her, would make her husband (and Ralph represented thatNicholas was certain to marry her) a rich and prosperous man,and most formidable enemy.

　　Thirdly, that this deed had been, with others, stolen from onewho had himself obtained or concealed it fraudulently, and whofeared to take any steps for its recovery; and that he (Ralph) knew  1043the thief.

　　To all this Mr Squeers listened, with greedy ears that devouredevery syllable, and with his one eye and his mouth wide open:

　　marvelling for what special reason he was honoured with so muchof Ralph’s confidence, and to what it all tended.

　　‘Now,’ said Ralph, leaning forward, and placing his hand onSqueers’s arm, ‘hear the design which I have conceived, andwhich I must—I say, must, if I can ripen it—have carried intoexecution. No advantage can be reaped from this deed, whatever itis, save by the girl herself, or her husband; and the possession ofthis deed by one or other of them is indispensable to anyadvantage being gained. That I have discovered beyond thepossibility of doubt. I want that deed brought here, that I may givethe man who brings it fifty pounds in gold, and burn it to ashesbefore his face.’

　　Mr Squeers, after following with his eye the action of Ralph’shand towards the fire-place as if he were at that momentconsuming the paper, drew a long breath, and said:

　　‘Yes; but who’s to bring it?’

　　‘Nobody, perhaps, for much is to be done before it can be gotat,’ said Ralph. ‘But if anybody—you!’

　　Mr Squeers’s first tokens of consternation, and his flatrelinquishment of the task, would have staggered most men, ifthey had not immediately occasioned an utter abandonment of theproposition. On Ralph they produced not the slightest effect.

　　Resuming, when the schoolmaster had quite talked himself out ofbreath, as coolly as if he had never been interrupted, Ralphproceeded to expatiate on such features of the case as he deemedit most advisable to lay the greatest stress on.

　　  1044These were, the age, decrepitude, and weakness of MrsSliderskew; the great improbability of her having any accompliceor even acquaintance: taking into account her secluded habits,and her long residence in such a house as Gride’s; the strongreason there was to suppose that the robbery was not the result ofa concerted plan: otherwise she would have watched anopportunity of carrying off a sum of money; the difficulty shewould be placed in when she began to think on what she haddone, and found herself encumbered with documents of whosenature she was utterly ignorant; and the comparative ease withwhich somebody, with a full knowledge of her position, obtainingaccess to her, and working on her fears, if necessary, might wormhimself into her confidence and obtain, under one pretence oranother, free possession of the deed. To these were added suchconsiderations as the constant residence of Mr Squeers at a longdistance from London, which rendered his association with MrsSliderskew a mere masquerading frolic, in which nobody waslikely to recognise him, either at the time or afterwards; theimpossibility of Ralph’s undertaking the task himself, he beingalready known to her by sight; and various comments on theuncommon tact and experience of Mr Squeers: which would makehis overreaching one old woman a mere matter of child’s play andamusement. In addition to these influences and persuasions,Ralph drew, with his utmost skill and power, a vivid picture of thedefeat which Nicholas would sustain, should they succeed, inlinking himself to a beggar, where he expected to wed an heiress—glanced at the immeasurable importance it must be to a mansituated as Squeers, to preserve such a friend as himself—dwelton a long train of benefits, conferred since their first acquaintance,  1045when he had reported favourably of his treatment of a sickly boywho had died under his hands (and whose death was veryconvenient to Ralph and his clients, but this he did not say), andfinally hinted that the fifty pounds might be increased to seventy-five, or, in the event of very great success, even to a hundred.

　　These arguments at length concluded, Mr Squeers crossed hislegs, uncrossed them, scratched his head, rubbed his eye,examined the palms of his hands, and bit his nails, and afterexhibiting many other signs of restlessness and indecision, asked‘whether one hundred pound was the highest that Mr Nicklebycould go.’ Being answered in the affirmative, he became restlessagain, and, after some thought, and an unsuccessful inquiry‘whether he couldn’t go another fifty,’ said he supposed he musttry and do the most he could for a friend: which was always hismaxim, and therefore he undertook the job.

　　‘But how are you to get at the woman?’ he said; ‘that’s what it isas puzzles me.’

　　‘I may not get at her at all,’ replied Ralph, ‘but I’ll try. I havehunted people in this city, before now, who have been better hidthan she; and I know quarters in which a guinea or two, carefullyspent, will often solve darker riddles than this. Ay, and keep themclose too, if need be! I hear my man ringing at the door. We may aswell part. You had better not come to and fro, but wait till youhear from me.’

　　‘Good!’ returned Squeers. ‘I say! If you shouldn’t find her out,you’ll pay expenses at the Saracen, and something for loss oftime?’

　　‘Well,’ said Ralph, testily; ‘yes! You have nothing more to say?’

　　Squeers shaking his head, Ralph accompanied him to the  1046streetdoor, and audibly wondering, for the edification of Newman,why it was fastened as if it were night, let him in and Squeers out,and returned to his own room.

　　‘Now!’ he muttered, ‘come what come may, for the present I amfirm and unshaken. Let me but retrieve this one small portion ofmy loss and disgrace; let me but defeat him in this one hope, dearto his heart as I know it must be; let me but do this; and it shall bethe first link in such a chain which I will wind about him, as neverman forged yet.’