Chapter 59

The Plots begin to fail, and Doubts and Dangers todisturb the Plotter.

　　Ralph sat alone, in the solitary room where he wasaccustomed to take his meals, and to sit of nights when noprofitable occupation called him abroad. Before him wasan untasted breakfast, and near to where his fingers beatrestlessly upon the table, lay his watch. It was long past the time atwhich, for many years, he had put it in his pocket and gone withmeasured steps downstairs to the business of the day, but he tookas little heed of its monotonous warning, as of the meat and drinkbefore him, and remained with his head resting on one hand, andhis eyes fixed moodily on the ground.

　　This departure from his regular and constant habit, in one soregular and unvarying in all that appertained to the daily pursuitof riches, would almost of itself have told that the usurer was notwell. That he laboured under some mental or bodily indisposition,and that it was one of no slight kind so to affect a man like him,was sufficiently shown by his haggard face, jaded air, and hollowlanguid eyes: which he raised at last with a start and a hastyglance around him, as one who suddenly awakes from sleep, andcannot immediately recognise the place in which he finds himself.

　　‘What is this,’ he said, ‘that hangs over me, and I cannot shakeoff? I have never pampered myself, and should not be ill. I havenever moped, and pined, and yielded to fancies; but what can aman do without rest?’

　　  1072He pressed his hand upon his forehead.

　　‘Night after night comes and goes, and I have no rest. If I sleep,what rest is that which is disturbed by constant dreams of thesame detested faces crowding round me—of the same detestedpeople, in every variety of action, mingling with all I say and do,and always to my defeat? Waking, what rest have I, constantlyhaunted by this heavy shadow of—I know not what—which is itsworst character? I must have rest. One night’s unbroken rest, andI should be a man again.’

　　Pushing the table from him while he spoke, as though heloathed the sight of food, he encountered the watch: the hands ofwhich were almost upon noon.

　　‘This is strange!’ he said; ‘noon, and Noggs not here! Whatdrunken brawl keeps him away? I would give something now—something in money even after that dreadful loss—if he hadstabbed a man in a tavern scuffle, or broken into a house, orpicked a pocket, or done anything that would send him abroadwith an iron ring upon his leg, and rid me of him. Better still, if Icould throw temptation in his way, and lure him on to rob me. Heshould be welcome to what he took, so I brought the law uponhim; for he is a traitor, I swear! How, or when, or where, I don’tknow, though I suspect.’

　　After waiting for another half-hour, he dispatched the womanwho kept his house to Newman’s lodging, to inquire if he were ill,and why he had not come or sent. She brought back answer thathe had not been home all night, and that no one could tell heranything about him.

　　‘But there is a gentleman, sir,’ she said, ‘below, who wasstanding at the door when I came in, and he says—’

　　  1073‘What says he?’ demanded Ralph, turning angrily upon her. ‘Itold you I would see nobody.’

　　‘He says,’ replied the woman, abashed by his harshness, ‘thathe comes on very particular business which admits of no excuse;and I thought perhaps it might be about—’

　　‘About what, in the devil’s name?’ said Ralph. ‘You spy andspeculate on people’s business with me, do you?’

　　‘Dear, no, sir! I saw you were anxious, and thought it might beabout Mr Noggs; that’s all.’

　　‘Saw I was anxious!’ muttered Ralph; ‘they all watch me, now.

　　Where is this person? You did not say I was not down yet, I hope?’

　　The woman replied that he was in the little office, and that shehad said her master was engaged, but she would take the message.

　　‘Well,’ said Ralph, ‘I’ll see him. Go you to your kitchen, andkeep there. Do you mind me?’

　　Glad to be released, the woman quickly disappeared. Collectinghimself, and assuming as much of his accustomed manner as hisutmost resolution could summon, Ralph descended the stairs.

　　After pausing for a few moments, with his hand upon the lock, heentered Newman’s room, and confronted Mr Charles Cheeryble.

　　Of all men alive, this was one of the last he would have wishedto meet at any time; but, now that he recognised in him only thepatron and protector of Nicholas, he would rather have seen aspectre. One beneficial effect, however, the encounter had uponhim. It instantly roused all his dormant energies; rekindled in hisbreast the passions that, for many years, had found an improvinghome there; called up all his wrath, hatred, and malice; restoredthe sneer to his lip, and the scowl to his brow; and made himagain, in all outward appearance, the same Ralph Nickleby whom  1074so many had bitter cause to remember.

　　‘Humph!’ said Ralph, pausing at the door. ‘This is anunexpected favour, sir.’

　　‘And an unwelcome one,’ said brother Charles; ‘an unwelcomeone, I know.’

　　‘Men say you are truth itself, sir,’ replied Ralph. ‘You speaktruth now, at all events, and I’ll not contradict you. The favour is,at least, as unwelcome as it is unexpected. I can scarcely saymore.’

　　‘Plainly, sir—’ began brother Charles.

　　‘Plainly, sir,’ interrupted Ralph, ‘I wish this conference to be ashort one, and to end where it begins. I guess the subject uponwhich you are about to speak, and I’ll not hear you. You likeplainness, I believe; there it is. Here is the door as you see. Ourway lies in very different directions. Take yours, I beg of you, andleave me to pursue mine in quiet.’

　　‘In quiet!’ repeated brother Charles mildly, and looking at himwith more of pity than reproach. ‘To pursue his way in quiet!’

　　‘You will scarcely remain in my house, I presume, sir, againstmy will,’ said Ralph; ‘or you can scarcely hope to make animpression upon a man who closes his ears to all that you can say,and is firmly and resolutely determined not to hear you.’

　　‘Mr Nickleby, sir,’ returned brother Charles: no less mildly thanbefore, but firmly too: ‘I come here against my will, sorely andgrievously against my will. I have never been in this house before;and, to speak my mind, sir, I don’t feel at home or easy in it, andhave no wish ever to be here again. You do not guess the subjecton which I come to speak to you; you do not indeed. I am sure ofthat, or your manner would be a very different one.’

　　  1075Ralph glanced keenly at him, but the clear eye and opencountenance of the honest old merchant underwent no change ofexpression, and met his look without reserve.

　　‘Shall I go on?’ said Mr Cheeryble.

　　‘Oh, by all means, if you please,’ returned Ralph drily. ‘Here arewalls to speak to, sir, a desk, and two stools: most attentiveauditors, and certain not to interrupt you. Go on, I beg; make myhouse yours, and perhaps by the time I return from my walk, youwill have finished what you have to say, and will yield me uppossession again.’

　　So saying, he buttoned his coat, and turning into the passage,took down his hat. The old gentleman followed, and was about tospeak, when Ralph waved him off impatiently, and said:

　　‘Not a word. I tell you, sir, not a word. Virtuous as you are, youare not an angel yet, to appear in men’s houses whether they willor no, and pour your speech into unwilling ears. Preach to thewalls I tell you; not to me!’

　　‘I am no angel, Heaven knows,’ returned brother Charles,shaking his head, ‘but an erring and imperfect man; nevertheless,there is one quality which all men have, in common with theangels, blessed opportunities of exercising, if they will; mercy. It isan errand of mercy that brings me here. Pray let me discharge it.’

　　‘I show no mercy,’ retorted Ralph with a triumphant smile, ‘andI ask none. Seek no mercy from me, sir, in behalf of the fellow whohas imposed upon your childish credulity, but let him expect theworst that I can do.’

　　‘He ask mercy at your hands!’ exclaimed the old merchantwarmly; ‘ask it at his, sir; ask it at his. If you will not hear me now,when you may, hear me when you must, or anticipate what I  1076would say, and take measures to prevent our ever meeting again.

　　Your nephew is a noble lad, sir, an honest, noble lad. What youare, Mr Nickleby, I will not say; but what you have done, I know.

　　Now, sir, when you go about the business in which you have beenrecently engaged, and find it difficult of pursuing, come to me andmy brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater, sir, and we’ll explain it foryou—and come soon, or it may be too late, and you may have itexplained with a little more roughness, and a little less delicacy—and never forget, sir, that I came here this morning, in mercy toyou, and am still ready to talk to you in the same spirit.’

　　With these words, uttered with great emphasis and emotion,brother Charles put on his broad-brimmed hat, and, passing RalphNickleby without any other remark, trotted nimbly into the street.

　　Ralph looked after him, but neither moved nor spoke for sometime: when he broke what almost seemed the silence ofstupefaction, by a scornful laugh.

　　‘This,’ he said, ‘from its wildness, should be another of thosedreams that have so broken my rest of late. In mercy to me! Pho!

　　The old simpleton has gone mad.’

　　Although he expressed himself in this derisive andcontemptuous manner, it was plain that, the more Ralphpondered, the more ill at ease he became, and the more helaboured under some vague anxiety and alarm, which increased asthe time passed on and no tidings of Newman Noggs arrived. Afterwaiting until late in the afternoon, tortured by variousapprehensions and misgivings, and the recollection of the warningwhich his nephew had given him when they last met: the furtherconfirmation of which now presented itself in one shape ofprobability, now in another, and haunted him perpetually: he left  1077home, and, scarcely knowing why, save that he was in a suspiciousand agitated mood, betook himself to Snawley’s house. His wifepresented herself; and, of her, Ralph inquired whether herhusband was at home.

　　‘No,’ she said sharply, ‘he is not indeed, and I don’t think he willbe at home for a very long time; that’s more.’

　　‘Do you know who I am?’ asked Ralph.

　　‘Oh yes, I know you very well; too well, perhaps, and perhaps hedoes too, and sorry am I that I should have to say it.’

　　‘Tell him that I saw him through the window-blind above, as Icrossed the road just now, and that I would speak to him onbusiness,’ said Ralph. ‘Do you hear?’

　　‘I hear,’ rejoined Mrs Snawley, taking no further notice of therequest.

　　‘I knew this woman was a hypocrite, in the way of psalms andScripture phrases,’ said Ralph, passing quietly by, ‘but I neverknew she drank before.’

　　‘Stop! You don’t come in here,’ said Mr Snawley’s better-half,interposing her person, which was a robust one, in the doorway.

　　‘You have said more than enough to him on business, before now.

　　I always told him what dealing with you and working out yourschemes would come to. It was either you or the schoolmaster—one of you, or the two between you—that got the forged letterdone; remember that! That wasn’t his doing, so don’t lay it at hisdoor.’

　　‘Hold your tongue, you Jezebel,’ said Ralph, looking fearfullyround.

　　‘Ah, I know when to hold my tongue, and when to speak, MrNickleby,’ retorted the dame. ‘Take care that other people know  1078when to hold theirs.’

　　‘You jade,’ said Ralph, ‘if your husband has been idiot enoughto trust you with his secrets, keep them; keep them, she-devil thatyou are!’

　　‘Not so much his secrets as other people’s secrets, perhaps,’

　　retorted the woman; ‘not so much his secrets as yours. None ofyour black looks at me! You’ll want ’em all, perhaps, for anothertime. You had better keep ’em.’

　　‘Will you,’ said Ralph, suppressing his passion as well as hecould, and clutching her tightly by the wrist; ‘will you go to yourhusband and tell him that I know he is at home, and that I mustsee him? And will you tell me what it is that you and he mean bythis new style of behaviour?’

　　‘No,’ replied the woman, violently disengaging herself, ‘I’ll doneither.’

　　‘You set me at defiance, do you?’ said Ralph.

　　‘Yes,’ was the answer. I do.’

　　For an instant Ralph had his hand raised, as though he wereabout to strike her; but, checking himself, and nodding his headand muttering as though to assure her he would not forget this,walked away.

　　Thence, he went straight to the inn which Mr Squeersfrequented, and inquired when he had been there last; in thevague hope that, successful or unsuccessful, he might, by thistime, have returned from his mission and be able to assure himthat all was safe. But Mr Squeers had not been there for ten days,and all that the people could tell about him was, that he had lefthis luggage and his bill.

　　Disturbed by a thousand fears and surmises, and bent upon  1079ascertaining whether Squeers had any suspicion of Snawley, orwas, in any way, a party to this altered behaviour, Ralphdetermined to hazard the extreme step of inquiring for him at theLambeth lodging, and having an interview with him even there.

　　Bent upon this purpose, and in that mood in which delay isinsupportable, he repaired at once to the place; and being, bydescription, perfectly acquainted with the situation of his room,crept upstairs and knocked gently at the door.

　　Not one, nor two, nor three, nor yet a dozen knocks, served toconvince Ralph, against his wish, that there was nobody inside. Hereasoned that he might be asleep; and, listening, almost persuadedhimself that he could hear him breathe. Even when he wassatisfied that he could not be there, he sat patiently on a brokenstair and waited; arguing, that he had gone out upon some slighterrand, and must soon return.

　　Many feet came up the creaking stairs; and the step of someseemed to his listening ear so like that of the man for whom hewaited, that Ralph often stood up to be ready to address him whenhe reached the top; but, one by one, each person turned off intosome room short of the place where he was stationed: and at everysuch disappointment he felt quite chilled and lonely.

　　At length he felt it was hopeless to remain, and goingdownstairs again, inquired of one of the lodgers if he knewanything of Mr Squeers’s movements—mentioning that worthy byan assumed name which had been agreed upon between them. Bythis lodger he was referred to another, and by him to someoneelse, from whom he learnt, that, late on the previous night, he hadgone out hastily with two men, who had shortly afterwardsreturned for the old woman who lived on the same floor; and that,  1080although the circumstance had attracted the attention of theinformant, he had not spoken to them at the time, nor made anyinquiry afterwards.

　　This possessed him with the idea that, perhaps, Peg Sliderskewhad been apprehended for the robbery, and that Mr Squeers,being with her at the time, had been apprehended also, onsuspicion of being a confederate. If this were so, the fact must beknown to Gride; and to Gride’s house he directed his steps; nowthoroughly alarmed, and fearful that there were indeed plots afoot,tending to his discomfiture and ruin.

　　Arrived at the usurer’s house, he found the windows close shut,the dingy blinds drawn down; all was silent, melancholy, anddeserted. But this was its usual aspect. He knocked—gently atfirst—then loud and vigorously. Nobody came. He wrote a fewwords in pencil on a card, and having thrust it under the door wasgoing away, when a noise above, as though a window-sash werestealthily raised, caught his ear, and looking up he could justdiscern the face of Gride himself, cautiously peering over thehouse parapet from the window of the garret. Seeing who wasbelow, he drew it in again; not so quickly, however, but that Ralphlet him know he was observed, and called to him to come down.

　　The call being repeated, Gride looked out again, so cautiouslythat no part of the old man’s body was visible. The sharp featuresand white hair appearing alone, above the parapet, looked like asevered head garnishing the wall.

　　‘Hush!’ he cried. ‘Go away, go away!’

　　‘Come down,’ said Ralph, beckoning him.

　　‘Go a-way!’ squeaked Gride, shaking his head in a sort ofecstasy of impatience. ‘Don’t speak to me, don’t knock, don’t call  1081attention to the house, but go away.’

　　‘I’ll knock, I swear, till I have your neighbours up in arms,’ saidRalph, ‘if you don’t tell me what you mean by lurking there, youwhining cur.’

　　‘I can’t hear what you say—don’t talk to me—it isn’t safe—goaway—go away!’ returned Gride.

　　‘Come down, I say. Will you come down?’ said Ralph fiercely.

　　‘No-o-o-oo,’ snarled Gride. He drew in his head; and Ralph, leftstanding in the street, could hear the sash closed, as gently andcarefully as it had been opened.

　　‘How is this,’ said he, ‘that they all fall from me, and shun melike the plague, these men who have licked the dust from my feet?

　　IS my day past, and is this indeed the coming on of night? I’llknow what it means! I will, at any cost. I am firmer and moremyself, just now, than I have been these many days.’

　　Turning from the door, which, in the first transport of his rage,he had meditated battering upon until Gride’s very fears shouldimpel him to open it, he turned his face towards the city, andworking his way steadily through the crowd which was pouringfrom it (it was by this time between five and six o’clock in theafternoon) went straight to the house of business of the brothersCheeryble, and putting his head into the glass case, found TimLinkinwater alone.

　　‘My name’s Nickleby,’ said Ralph.

　　‘I know it,’ replied Tim, surveying him through his spectacles.

　　‘Which of your firm was it who called on me this morning?’

　　demanded Ralph.

　　‘Mr Charles.’

　　‘Then, tell Mr Charles I want to see him.’

　　  1082‘You shall see,’ said Tim, getting off his stool with great agility,‘you shall see, not only Mr Charles, but Mr Ned likewise.’

　　Tim stopped, looked steadily and severely at Ralph, nodded hishead once, in a curt manner which seemed to say there was a littlemore behind, and vanished. After a short interval, he returned,and, ushering Ralph into the presence of the two brothers,remained in the room himself.

　　‘I want to speak to you, who spoke to me this morning,’ saidRalph, pointing out with his finger the man whom he addressed.

　　‘I have no secrets from my brother Ned, or from TimLinkinwater,’ observed brother Charles quietly.

　　‘I have,’ said Ralph.

　　‘Mr Nickleby, sir,’ said brother Ned, ‘the matter upon which mybrother Charles called upon you this morning is one which isalready perfectly well known to us three, and to others besides,and must unhappily soon become known to a great many more.

　　He waited upon you, sir, this morning, alone, as a matter ofdelicacy and consideration. We feel, now, that further delicacy andconsideration would be misplaced; and, if we confer together, itmust be as we are or not at all.’

　　‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Ralph with a curl of the lip, ‘talking inriddles would seem to be the peculiar forte of you two, and Isuppose your clerk, like a prudent man, has studied the art alsowith a view to your good graces. Talk in company, gentlemen, inGod’s name. I’ll humour you.’

　　‘Humour!’ cried Tim Linkinwater, suddenly growing very redin the face. ‘He’ll humour us! He’ll humour Cheeryble Brothers!

　　Do you hear that? Do you hear him? Do you hear him say he’llhumour Cheeryble Brothers?’

　　  1083‘Tim,’ said Charles and Ned together, ‘pray, Tim, pray now,don’t.’

　　Tim, taking the hint, stifled his indignation as well as he could,and suffered it to escape through his spectacles, with theadditional safety-valve of a short hysterical laugh now and then,which seemed to relieve him mightily.

　　‘As nobody bids me to a seat,’ said Ralph, looking round, ‘I’lltake one, for I am fatigued with walking. And now, if you please,gentlemen, I wish to know—I demand to know; I have the right—what you have to say to me, which justifies such a tone as you haveassumed, and that underhand interference in my affairs which, Ihave reason to suppose, you have been practising. I tell youplainly, gentlemen, that little as I care for the opinion of the world(as the slang goes), I don’t choose to submit quietly to slander andmalice. Whether you suffer yourselves to be imposed upon tooeasily, or wilfully make yourselves parties to it, the result to me isthe same. In either case, you can’t expect from a plain man likemyself much consideration or forbearance.’

　　So coolly and deliberately was this said, that nine men out often, ignorant of the circumstances, would have supposed Ralph tobe really an injured man. There he sat, with folded arms; palerthan usual, certainly, and sufficiently ill-favoured, but quitecollected—far more so than the brothers or the exasperated Tim—and ready to face out the worst.

　　‘Very well, sir,’ said brother Charles. ‘Very well. Brother Ned,will you ring the bell?’

　　‘Charles, my dear fellow! stop one instant,’ returned the other.

　　‘It will be better for Mr Nickleby and for our object that he shouldremain silent, if he can, till we have said what we have to say. I  1084wish him to understand that.’

　　‘Quite right, quite right,’ said brother Charles.

　　Ralph smiled, but made no reply. The bell was rung; the room-door opened; a man came in, with a halting walk; and, lookinground, Ralph’s eyes met those of Newman Noggs. From thatmoment, his heart began to fail him.

　　‘This is a good beginning,’ he said bitterly. ‘Oh! this is a goodbeginning. You are candid, honest, open-hearted, fair-dealingmen! I always knew the real worth of such characters as yours! Totamper with a fellow like this, who would sell his soul (if he hadone) for drink, and whose every word is a lie. What men are safe ifthis is done? Oh, it’s a good beginning!’

　　‘I will speak,’ cried Newman, standing on tiptoe to look overTim’s head, who had interposed to prevent him. ‘Hallo, you sir—old Nickleby!—what do you mean when you talk of “a fellow likethis”? Who made me “a fellow like this”? If I would sell my soulfor drink, why wasn’t I a thief, swindler, housebreaker, area sneak,robber of pence out of the trays of blind men’s dogs, rather thanyour drudge and packhorse? If my every word was a lie, whywasn’t I a pet and favourite of yours? Lie! When did I ever cringeand fawn to you. Tell me that! I served you faithfully. I did morework, because I was poor, and took more hard words from youbecause I despised you and them, than any man you could havegot from the parish workhouse. I did. I served you because I wasproud; because I was a lonely man with you, and there were noother drudges to see my degradation; and because nobody knew,better than you, that I was a ruined man: that I hadn’t always beenwhat I am: and that I might have been better off, if I hadn’t been afool and fallen into the hands of you and others who were knaves.

　　  1085Do you deny that?’

　　‘Gently,’ reasoned Tim; ‘you said you wouldn’t.’

　　‘I said I wouldn’t!’ cried Newman, thrusting him aside, andmoving his hand as Tim moved, so as to keep him at arm’s length;‘don’t tell me! Here, you Nickleby! Don’t pretend not to mind me;it won’t do; I know better. You were talking of tampering, justnow. Who tampered with Yorkshire schoolmasters, and, whilethey sent the drudge out, that he shouldn’t overhear, forgot thatsuch great caution might render him suspicious, and that he mightwatch his master out at nights, and might set other eyes to watchthe schoolmaster? Who tampered with a selfish father, urging himto sell his daughter to old Arthur Gride, and tampered with Gridetoo, and did so in the little office, with a closet in the room?’

　　Ralph had put a great command upon himself; but he could nothave suppressed a slight start, if he had been certain to bebeheaded for it next moment.

　　‘Aha!’ cried Newman, ‘you mind me now, do you? What first setthis fag to be jealous of his master’s actions, and to feel that, if hehadn’t crossed him when he might, he would have been as bad ashe, or worse? That master’s cruel treatment of his own flesh andblood, and vile designs upon a young girl who interested even hisbroken-down, drunken, miserable hack, and made him linger inhis service, in the hope of doing her some good (as, thank God, hehad done others once or twice before), when he would, otherwise,have relieved his feelings by pummelling his master soundly, andthen going to the Devil. He would—mark that; and mark this—thatI’m here now, because these gentlemen thought it best. When Isought them out (as I did; there was no tampering with me), I toldthem I wanted help to find you out, to trace you down, to go  1086through with what I had begun, to help the right; and that when Ihad done it, I’d burst into your room and tell you all, face to face,man to man, and like a man. Now I’ve said my say, and letanybody else say theirs, and fire away!’

　　With this concluding sentiment, Newman Noggs, who had beenperpetually sitting down and getting up again all through hisspeech, which he had delivered in a series of jerks; and who was,from the violent exercise and the excitement combined, in a stateof most intense and fiery heat; became, without passing throughany intermediate stage, stiff, upright, and motionless, and soremained, staring at Ralph Nickleby with all his might and main.

　　Ralph looked at him for an instant, and for an instant only;then, waved his hand, and beating the ground with his foot, said ina choking voice:

　　‘Go on, gentlemen, go on! I’m patient, you see. There’s law to behad, there’s law. I shall call you to an account for this. Take carewhat you say; I shall make you prove it.’

　　‘The proof is ready,’ returned brother Charles, ‘quite ready toour hands. The man Snawley, last night, made a confession.’

　　‘Who may “the man Snawley” be,’ returned Ralph, ‘and whatmay his “confession” have to do with my affairs?’

　　To this inquiry, put with a dogged inflexibility of manner, theold gentleman returned no answer, but went on to say, that toshow him how much they were in earnest, it would be necessary totell him, not only what accusations were made against him, butwhat proof of them they had, and how that proof had beenacquired. This laying open of the whole question brought upbrother Ned, Tim Linkinwater, and Newman Noggs, all three atonce; who, after a vast deal of talking together, and a scene of  1087great confusion, laid before Ralph, in distinct terms, the followingstatement.

　　That, Newman, having been solemnly assured by one not thenproducible that Smike was not the son of Snawley, and this personhaving offered to make oath to that effect, if necessary, they hadby this communication been first led to doubt the claim set up,which they would otherwise have seen no reason to dispute,supported as it was by evidence which they had no power ofdisproving. That, once suspecting the existence of a conspiracy,they had no difficulty in tracing back its origin to the malice ofRalph, and the vindictiveness and avarice of Squeers. That,suspicion and proof being two very different things, they had beenadvised by a lawyer, eminent for his sagacity and acuteness insuch practice, to resist the proceedings taken on the other side forthe recovery of the youth as slowly and artfully as possible, andmeanwhile to beset Snawley (with whom it was clear the mainfalsehood must rest); to lead him, if possible, into contradictoryand conflicting statements; to harass him by all available means;and so to practise on his fears, and regard for his own safety, as toinduce him to divulge the whole scheme, and to give up hisemployer and whomsoever else he could implicate. That, all thishad been skilfully done; but that Snawley, who was well practisedin the arts of low cunning and intrigue, had successfully baffled alltheir attempts, until an unexpected circumstance had broughthim, last night, upon his knees.

　　It thus arose. When Newman Noggs reported that Squeers wasagain in town, and that an interview of such secrecy had takenplace between him and Ralph that he had been sent out of thehouse, plainly lest he should overhear a word, a watch was set  1088upon the schoolmaster, in the hope that something might bediscovered which would throw some light upon the suspected plot.

　　It being found, however, that he held no further communicationwith Ralph, nor any with Snawley, and lived quite alone, theywere completely at fault; the watch was withdrawn, and theywould have observed his motions no longer, if it had not happenedthat, one night, Newman stumbled unobserved on him and Ralphin the street together. Following them, he discovered, to hissurprise, that they repaired to various low lodging-houses, andtaverns kept by broken gamblers, to more than one of whomRalph was known, and that they were in pursuit—so he found byinquiries when they had left—of an old woman, whose descriptionexactly tallied with that of deaf Mrs Sliderskew. Affairs nowappearing to assume a more serious complexion, the watch wasrenewed with increased vigilance; an officer was procured, whotook up his abode in the same tavern with Squeers: and by himand Frank Cheeryble the footsteps of the unconsciousschoolmaster were dogged, until he was safely housed in thelodging at Lambeth. Mr Squeers having shifted his lodging, theofficer shifted his, and lying concealed in the same street, and,indeed, in the opposite house, soon found that Mr Squeers andMrs Sliderskew were in constant communication.

　　In this state of things, Arthur Gride was appealed to. Therobbery, partly owing to the inquisitiveness of the neighbours, andpartly to his own grief and rage, had, long ago, become known; buthe positively refused to give his sanction or yield any assistance tothe old woman’s capture, and was seized with such a panic at theidea of being called upon to give evidence against her, that he shuthimself up close in his house, and refused to hold communication  1089with anybody. Upon this, the pursuers took counsel together, and,coming so near the truth as to arrive at the conclusion that Grideand Ralph, with Squeers for their instrument, were negotiating forthe recovery of some of the stolen papers which would not bearthe light, and might possibly explain the hints relative to Madelinewhich Newman had overheard, resolved that Mrs Sliderskewshould be taken into custody before she had parted with them:

　　and Squeers too, if anything suspicious could be attached to him.

　　Accordingly, a search-warrant being procured, and all prepared,Mr Squeers’s window was watched, until his light was put out, andthe time arrived when, as had been previously ascertained, heusually visited Mrs Sliderskew. This done, Frank Cheeryble andNewman stole upstairs to listen to their discourse, and to give thesignal to the officer at the most favourable time. At what anopportune moment they arrived, how they listened, and what theyheard, is already known to the reader. Mr Squeers, still halfstunned, was hurried off with a stolen deed in his possession, andMrs Sliderskew was apprehended likewise. The information beingpromptly carried to Snawley that Squeers was in custody—he wasnot told for what—that worthy, first extorting a promise that heshould be kept harmless, declared the whole tale concerningSmike to be a fiction and forgery, and implicated Ralph Nicklebyto the fullest extent. As to Mr Squeers, he had, that morning,undergone a private examination before a magistrate; and, beingunable to account satisfactorily for his possession of the deed orhis companionship with Mrs Sliderskew, had been, with her,remanded for a week.

　　All these discoveries were now related to Ralph,circumstantially, and in detail. Whatever impression they secretly  1090produced, he suffered no sign of emotion to escape him, but satperfectly still, not raising his frowning eyes from the ground, andcovering his mouth with his hand. When the narrative wasconcluded; he raised his head hastily, as if about to speak, but onbrother Charles resuming, fell into his old attitude again.

　　‘I told you this morning,’ said the old gentleman, laying hishand upon his brother’s shoulder, ‘that I came to you in mercy.

　　How far you may be implicated in this last transaction, or how farthe person who is now in custody may criminate you, you bestknow. But, justice must take its course against the partiesimplicated in the plot against this poor, unoffending, injured lad. Itis not in my power, or in the power of my brother Ned, to save youfrom the consequences. The utmost we can do is, to warn you intime, and to give you an opportunity of escaping them. We wouldnot have an old man like you disgraced and punished by your nearrelation; nor would we have him forget, like you, all ties of bloodand nature. We entreat you—brother Ned, you join me, I know, inthis entreaty, and so, Tim Linkinwater, do you, although youpretend to be an obstinate dog, sir, and sit there frowning as if youdidn’t—we entreat you to retire from London, to take shelter insome place where you will be safe from the consequences of thesewicked designs, and where you may have time, sir, to atone forthem, and to become a better man.’

　　‘And do you think,’ returned Ralph, rising, ‘and do you think,you will so easily crush ME? Do you think that a hundred well-arranged plans, or a hundred suborned witnesses, or a hundredfalse curs at my heels, or a hundred canting speeches full of oilywords, will move me? I thank you for disclosing your schemes,which I am now prepared for. You have not the man to deal with  1091that you think; try me! and remember that I spit upon your fairwords and false dealings, and dare you—provoke you—tauntyou—to do to me the very worst you can!’

　　Thus they parted, for that time; but the worst had not come yet.