The Old Curiosity Shop
So far, however, from rushing upon somebody who offered no resistance
and implored his mercy, Mr Quilp was no sooner in the arms of the
individual whom he had taken for his wife than he found himself
complimented with two staggering blows on the head, and two more, of
the same quality, in the chest; and closing with his assailant, such a
shower of buffets rained down upon his person as sufficed to convince
him that he was in skilful and experienced hands. Nothing daunted by
this reception, he clung tight to his opponent, and bit and hammered
away with such good-will and heartiness, that it was at least a couple
of minutes before he was dislodged. Then, and not until then, Daniel
Quilp found himself, all flushed and dishevelled, in the middle of the
street, with Mr Richard Swiveller performing a kind of dance round him
and requiring to know ‘whether he wanted any more?’
‘There’s plenty more of it at the same shop,’ said Mr Swiveller, by
turns advancing and retreating in a threatening attitude, ‘a large and
extensive assortment always on hand--country orders executed with
promptitude and despatch--will you have a little more, Sir--don’t say
no, if you’d rather not.’
‘I thought it was somebody else,’ said Quilp, rubbing his shoulders,
‘why didn’t you say who you were?’
‘Why didn’t you say who YOU were?’ returned Dick, ‘instead of flying
out of the house like a Bedlamite?’
‘It was you that--that knocked,’ said the dwarf, getting up with a
short groan, ‘was it?’
‘Yes, I am the man,’ replied Dick. ‘That lady had begun when I came,
but she knocked too soft, so I relieved her.’ As he said this, he
pointed towards Mrs Quilp, who stood trembling at a little distance.
‘Humph!’ muttered the dwarf, darting an angry look at his wife, ‘I
thought it was your fault! And you, sir--don’t you know there has been
somebody ill here, that you knock as if you’d beat the door down?’
‘Damme!’ answered Dick, ‘that’s why I did it. I thought there was
somebody dead here.’
‘You came for some purpose, I suppose,’ said Quilp. ‘What is it you
want?’
‘I want to know how the old gentleman is,’ rejoined Mr Swiveller, ‘and
to hear from Nell herself, with whom I should like to have a little
talk. I’m a friend of the family, sir--at least I’m the friend of one
of the family, and that’s the same thing.’
‘You’d better walk in then,’ said the dwarf. ‘Go on, sir, go on. Now,
Mrs Quilp--after you, ma’am.’
Mrs Quilp hesitated, but Mr Quilp insisted. And it was not a contest
of politeness, or by any means a matter of form, for she knew very well
that her husband wished to enter the house in this order, that he might
have a favourable opportunity of inflicting a few pinches on her arms,
which were seldom free from impressions of his fingers in black and
blue colours. Mr Swiveller, who was not in the secret, was a little
surprised to hear a suppressed scream, and, looking round, to see Mrs
Quilp following him with a sudden jerk; but he did not remark on these
appearances, and soon forgot them.
‘Now, Mrs Quilp,’ said the dwarf when they had entered the shop, ‘go
you up stairs, if you please, to Nelly’s room, and tell her that she’s
wanted.’
‘You seem to make yourself at home here,’ said Dick, who was
unacquainted with Mr Quilp’s authority.
‘I AM at home, young gentleman,’ returned the dwarf.
Dick was pondering what these words might mean, and still more what the
presence of Mr Brass might mean, when Mrs Quilp came hurrying down
stairs, declaring that the rooms above were empty.
‘Empty, you fool!’ said the dwarf.
‘I give you my word, Quilp,’ answered his trembling wife, ‘that I have
been into every room and there’s not a soul in any of them.’
‘And that,’ said Mr Brass, clapping his hands once, with an emphasis,
‘explains the mystery of the key!’
Quilp looked frowningly at him, and frowningly at his wife, and
frowningly at Richard Swiveller; but, receiving no enlightenment from
any of them, hurried up stairs, whence he soon hurried down again,
confirming the report which had already been made.
‘It’s a strange way of going,’ he said, glancing at Swiveller, ‘very
strange not to communicate with me who am such a close and intimate
friend of his! Ah! he’ll write to me no doubt, or he’ll bid Nelly
write--yes, yes, that’s what he’ll do. Nelly’s very fond of me.
Pretty Nell!’
Mr Swiveller looked, as he was, all open-mouthed astonishment. Still
glancing furtively at him, Quilp turned to Mr Brass and observed, with
assumed carelessness, that this need not interfere with the removal of
the goods.
‘For indeed,’ he added, ‘we knew that they’d go away to-day, but not
that they’d go so early, or so quietly. But they have their reasons,
they have their reasons.’
‘Where in the devil’s name are they gone?’ said the wondering Dick.
Quilp shook his head, and pursed up his lips, in a manner which implied
that he knew very well, but was not at liberty to say.
‘And what,’ said Dick, looking at the confusion about him, ‘what do you
mean by moving the goods?’
‘That I have bought ‘em, Sir,’ rejoined Quilp. ‘Eh? What then?’
‘Has the sly old fox made his fortune then, and gone to live in a
tranquil cot in a pleasant spot with a distant view of the changing
sea?’ said Dick, in great bewilderment.
‘Keeping his place of retirement very close, that he may not be visited
too often by affectionate grandsons and their devoted friends, eh?’
added the dwarf, rubbing his hands hard; ‘I say nothing, but is that
your meaning?’
Richard Swiveller was utterly aghast at this unexpected alteration of
circumstances, which threatened the complete overthrow of the project
in which he bore so conspicuous a part, and seemed to nip his prospects
in the bud. Having only received from Frederick Trent, late on the
previous night, information of the old man’s illness, he had come upon
a visit of condolence and inquiry to Nell, prepared with the first
instalment of that long train of fascinations which was to fire her
heart at last. And here, when he had been thinking of all kinds of
graceful and insinuating approaches, and meditating on the fearful
retaliation which was slowly working against Sophy Wackles--here were
Nell, the old man, and all the money gone, melted away, decamped he
knew not whither, as if with a fore-knowledge of the scheme and a
resolution to defeat it in the very outset, before a step was taken.
In his secret heart, Daniel Quilp was both surprised and troubled by
the flight which had been made. It had not escaped his keen eye that
some indispensable articles of clothing were gone with the fugitives,
and knowing the old man’s weak state of mind, he marvelled what that
course of proceeding might be in which he had so readily procured the
concurrence of the child. It must not be supposed (or it would be a
gross injustice to Mr Quilp) that he was tortured by any disinterested
anxiety on behalf of either. His uneasiness arose from a misgiving
that the old man had some secret store of money which he had not
suspected; and the idea of its escaping his clutches, overwhelmed him
with mortification and self-reproach.
In this frame of mind, it was some consolation to him to find that
Richard Swiveller was, for different reasons, evidently irritated and
disappointed by the same cause. It was plain, thought the dwarf, that
he had come there, on behalf of his friend, to cajole or frighten the
old man out of some small fraction of that wealth of which they
supposed him to have an abundance. Therefore, it was a relief to vex
his heart with a picture of the riches the old man hoarded, and to
expatiate on his cunning in removing himself even beyond the reach of
importunity.
‘Well,’ said Dick, with a blank look, ‘I suppose it’s of no use my
staying here.’
‘Not the least in the world,’ rejoined the dwarf.
‘You’ll mention that I called, perhaps?’ said Dick.
Mr Quilp nodded, and said he certainly would, the very first time he
saw them.
‘And say,’ added Mr Swiveller, ‘say, sir, that I was wafted here upon
the pinions of concord; that I came to remove, with the rake of
friendship, the seeds of mutual violence and heart-burning, and to sow
in their place, the germs of social harmony. Will you have the
goodness to charge yourself with that commission, Sir?’
‘Certainly!’ rejoined Quilp.
‘Will you be kind enough to add to it, Sir,’ said Dick, producing a
very small limp card, ‘that that is my address, and that I am to be
found at home every morning. Two distinct knocks, sir, will produce
the slavey at any time. My particular friends, Sir, are accustomed to
sneeze when the door is opened, to give her to understand that they ARE
my friends and have no interested motives in asking if I’m at home. I
beg your pardon; will you allow me to look at that card again?’
‘Oh! by all means,’ rejoined Quilp.
‘By a slight and not unnatural mistake, sir,’ said Dick, substituting
another in its stead, ‘I had handed you the pass-ticket of a select
convivial circle called the Glorious Apollers of which I have the
honour to be Perpetual Grand. That is the proper document, Sir. Good
morning.’
Quilp bade him good day; the perpetual Grand Master of the Glorious
Apollers, elevating his hat in honour of Mrs Quilp, dropped it
carelessly on the side of his head again, and disappeared with a
flourish.
By this time, certain vans had arrived for the conveyance of the goods,
and divers strong men in caps were balancing chests of drawers and
other trifles of that nature upon their heads, and performing muscular
feats which heightened their complexions considerably. Not to be
behind-hand in the bustle, Mr Quilp went to work with surprising
vigour; hustling and driving the people about, like an evil spirit;
setting Mrs Quilp upon all kinds of arduous and impracticable tasks;
carrying great weights up and down, with no apparent effort; kicking
the boy from the wharf, whenever he could get near him; and inflicting,
with his loads, a great many sly bumps and blows on the shoulders of Mr
Brass, as he stood upon the door-steps to answer all the inquiries of
curious neighbours, which was his department. His presence and example
diffused such alacrity among the persons employed, that, in a few
hours, the house was emptied of everything, but pieces of matting,
empty porter-pots, and scattered fragments of straw.
Seated, like an African chief, on one of these pieces of matting, the
dwarf was regaling himself in the parlour, with bread and cheese and
beer, when he observed without appearing to do so, that a boy was
prying in at the outer door. Assured that it was Kit, though he saw
little more than his nose, Mr Quilp hailed him by his name; whereupon
Kit came in and demanded what he wanted.
‘Come here, you sir,’ said the dwarf. ‘Well, so your old master and
young mistress have gone?’
‘Where?’ rejoined Kit, looking round.
‘Do you mean to say you don’t know where?’ answered Quilp sharply.
‘Where have they gone, eh?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Kit.
‘Come,’ retorted Quilp, ‘let’s have no more of this! Do you mean to
say that you don’t know they went away by stealth, as soon as it was
light this morning?’
‘No,’ said the boy, in evident surprise.
‘You don’t know that?’ cried Quilp. ‘Don’t I know that you were
hanging about the house the other night, like a thief, eh? Weren’t you
told then?’
‘No,’ replied the boy.
‘You were not?’ said Quilp. ‘What were you told then; what were you
talking about?’
Kit, who knew no particular reason why he should keep the matter secret
now, related the purpose for which he had come on that occasion, and
the proposal he had made.
‘Oh!’ said the dwarf after a little consideration. ‘Then, I think
they’ll come to you yet.’
‘Do you think they will?’ cried Kit eagerly.