Nicholas Nickleby
her some good (as, thank God, he had done others once or twice before),
when he would, otherwise, have relieved his feelings by pummelling his
master soundly, and then going to the Devil. He would--mark that; and
mark this--that I’m here now, because these gentlemen thought it best.
When I sought them out (as I did; there was no tampering with me),
I told them I wanted help to find you out, to trace you down, to go
through with what I had begun, to help the right; and that when I had
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 let anybody else say
theirs, and fire away!’
With this concluding sentiment, Newman Noggs, who had been perpetually
sitting down and getting up again all through his speech, which he had
delivered in a series of jerks; and who was, from the violent exercise
and the excitement combined, in a state of most intense and fiery heat;
became, without passing through any intermediate stage, stiff, upright,
and motionless, and so remained, 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 in a choking voice:
‘Go on, gentlemen, go on! I’m patient, you see. There’s law to be had,
there’s law. I shall call you to an account for this. Take care what you
say; I shall make you prove it.’
‘The proof is ready,’ returned brother Charles, ‘quite ready to our
hands. The man Snawley, last night, made a confession.’
‘Who may “the man Snawley” be,’ returned Ralph, ‘and what may his
“confession” have to do with my affairs?’
To this inquiry, put with a dogged inflexibility of manner, the old
gentleman returned no answer, but went on to say, that to show him how
much they were in earnest, it would be necessary to tell him, not only
what accusations were made against him, but what proof of them they
had, and how that proof had been acquired. This laying open of the whole
question brought up brother Ned, Tim Linkinwater, and Newman Noggs, all
three at once; who, after a vast deal of talking together, and a scene
of great confusion, laid before Ralph, in distinct terms, the following
statement.
That, Newman, having been solemnly assured by one not then producible
that Smike was not the son of Snawley, and this person having offered to
make oath to that effect, if necessary, they had by 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 of disproving. That, once suspecting the existence of
a conspiracy, they had no difficulty in tracing back its origin to the
malice of Ralph, and the vindictiveness and avarice of Squeers. That,
suspicion and proof being two very different things, they had been
advised by a lawyer, eminent for his sagacity and acuteness in such
practice, to resist the proceedings taken on the other side for the
recovery of the youth as slowly and artfully as possible, and meanwhile
to beset Snawley (with whom it was clear the main falsehood must rest);
to lead him, if possible, into contradictory and conflicting statements;
to harass him by all available means; and so to practise on his fears,
and regard for his own safety, as to induce him to divulge the whole
scheme, and to give up his employer and whomsoever else he could
implicate. That, all this had been skilfully done; but that Snawley,
who was well practised in the arts of low cunning and intrigue,
had successfully baffled all their attempts, until an unexpected
circumstance had brought him, last night, upon his knees.
It thus arose. When Newman Noggs reported that Squeers was again in
town, and that an interview of such secrecy had taken place between him
and Ralph that he had been sent out of the house, plainly lest he should
overhear a word, a watch was set upon the schoolmaster, in the hope
that something might be discovered which would throw some light upon
the suspected plot. It being found, however, that he held no further
communication with Ralph, nor any with Snawley, and lived quite alone,
they were completely at fault; the watch was withdrawn, and they would
have observed his motions no longer, if it had not happened that,
one night, Newman stumbled unobserved on him and Ralph in the street
together. Following them, he discovered, to his surprise, that they
repaired to various low lodging-houses, and taverns kept by broken
gamblers, to more than one of whom Ralph was known, and that they were
in pursuit--so he found by inquiries when they had left--of an
old woman, whose description exactly tallied with that of deaf Mrs
Sliderskew. Affairs now appearing to assume a more serious complexion,
the watch was renewed with increased vigilance; an officer was procured,
who took up his abode in the same tavern with Squeers: and by him and
Frank Cheeryble the footsteps of the unconscious schoolmaster were
dogged, until he was safely housed in the lodging at Lambeth. Mr. Squeers
having shifted his lodging, the officer shifted his, and lying concealed
in the same street, and, indeed, in the opposite house, soon found that
Mr. Squeers and Mrs. Sliderskew were in constant communication.
In this state of things, Arthur Gride was appealed to. The robbery,
partly owing to the inquisitiveness of the neighbours, and partly to
his own grief and rage, had, long ago, become known; but he positively
refused to give his sanction or yield any assistance to the old woman’s
capture, and was seized with such a panic at the idea of being called
upon to give evidence against her, that he shut himself up close in his
house, and refused to hold communication with anybody. Upon this, the
pursuers took counsel together, and, coming so near the truth as to
arrive at the conclusion that Gride and Ralph, with Squeers for their
instrument, were negotiating for the recovery of some of the stolen
papers which would not bear the light, and might possibly explain the
hints relative to Madeline which Newman had overheard, resolved that Mrs
Sliderskew should 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, and the time
arrived when, as had been previously ascertained, he usually visited
Mrs. Sliderskew. This done, Frank Cheeryble and Newman stole upstairs to
listen to their discourse, and to give the signal to the officer at the
most favourable time. At what an opportune moment they arrived, how
they listened, and what they heard, is already known to the reader. Mr
Squeers, still half stunned, was hurried off with a stolen deed in his
possession, and Mrs. Sliderskew was apprehended likewise. The information
being promptly carried to Snawley that Squeers was in custody--he was
not told for what--that worthy, first extorting a promise that he should
be kept harmless, declared the whole tale concerning Smike to be a
fiction and forgery, and implicated Ralph Nickleby to the fullest
extent. As to Mr. Squeers, he had, that morning, undergone a private
examination before a magistrate; and, being unable to account
satisfactorily for his possession of the deed or his 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 produced, he suffered no
sign of emotion to escape him, but sat perfectly still, not raising his
frowning eyes from the ground, and covering his mouth with his hand.
When the narrative was concluded; he raised his head hastily, as if
about to speak, but on brother Charles resuming, fell into his old
attitude again.
‘I told you this morning,’ said the old gentleman, laying his hand upon
his brother’s shoulder, ‘that I came to you in mercy. How far you may be
implicated in this last transaction, or how far the person who is now
in custody may criminate you, you best know. But, justice must take its
course against the parties implicated in the plot against this poor,
unoffending, injured lad. It is not in my power, or in the power of my
brother Ned, to save you from the consequences. The utmost we can do is,
to warn you in time, and to give you an opportunity of escaping them. We
would not have an old man like you disgraced and punished by your near
relation; nor would we have him forget, like you, all ties of blood
and nature. We entreat you--brother Ned, you join me, I know, in this
entreaty, and so, Tim Linkinwater, do you, although you pretend to be an
obstinate dog, sir, and sit there frowning as if you didn’t--we entreat
you to retire from London, to take shelter in some place where you will
be safe from the consequences of these wicked designs, and where you may
have time, sir, to atone for them, 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 hundred false curs at my heels, or a
hundred canting speeches full of oily words, will move me? I thank you
for disclosing your schemes, which I am now prepared for. You have not
the man to deal with that you think; try me! and remember that I
spit upon your fair words and false dealings, and dare you--provoke
you--taunt you--to do to me the very worst you can!’
Thus they parted, for that time; but the worst had not come yet.
CHAPTER 60
The Dangers thicken, and the Worst is told
Instead of going home, Ralph threw himself into the first street
cabriolet he could find, and, directing the driver towards the
police-office of the district in which Mr. Squeers’s misfortunes had
occurred, alighted at a short distance from it, and, discharging the
man, went the rest of his way thither on foot. Inquiring for the object
of his solicitude, he learnt that he had timed his visit well; for Mr
Squeers was, in fact, at that moment waiting for a hackney coach he had
ordered, and in which he purposed proceeding to his week’s retirement,
like a gentleman.
Demanding speech with the prisoner, he was ushered into a kind of
waiting-room in which, by reason of his scholastic profession and
superior respectability, Mr. Squeers had been permitted to pass the day.
Here, by the light of a guttering and blackened candle, he could barely
discern the schoolmaster, fast asleep on a bench in a remote corner.
An empty glass stood on a table before him, which, with his somnolent
condition and a very strong smell of brandy and water, forewarned
the visitor that Mr. Squeers had been seeking, in creature comforts, a
temporary forgetfulness of his unpleasant situation.
It was not a very easy matter to rouse him: so lethargic and heavy were
his slumbers. Regaining his faculties by slow and faint glimmerings, he
at length sat upright; and, displaying a very yellow face, a very
red nose, and a very bristly beard: the joint effect of which was
considerably heightened by a dirty white handkerchief, spotted with
blood, drawn over the crown of his head and tied under his chin: stared
ruefully at Ralph in silence, until his feelings found a vent in this
pithy sentence:
‘I say, young fellow, you’ve been and done it now; you have!’
‘What’s the matter with your head?’ asked Ralph.
‘Why, your man, your informing kidnapping man, has been and broke it,’
rejoined Squeers sulkily; ‘that’s what’s the matter with it. You’ve come
at last, have you?’
‘Why have you not sent to me?’ said Ralph. ‘How could I come till I knew
what had befallen you?’