The Old Curiosity Shop
somebody always coming in and out of this office for the last three or
four weeks; hasn’t that somebody been left alone in it
sometimes--thanks to you; and do you mean to tell me that that somebody
isn’t the thief!’
‘What somebody?’ blustered Brass.
‘Why, what do you call him--Kit.’
‘Mr Garland’s young man?’
‘To be sure.’
‘Never!’ cried Brass. ‘Never. I’ll not hear of it. Don’t tell
me’--said Sampson, shaking his head, and working with both his hands as
if he were clearing away ten thousand cobwebs. ‘I’ll never believe it
of him. Never!’
‘I say,’ repeated Miss Brass, taking another pinch of snuff, ‘that he’s
the thief.’
‘I say,’ returned Sampson violently, ‘that he is not. What do you
mean? How dare you? Are characters to be whispered away like this?
Do you know that he’s the honestest and faithfullest fellow that ever
lived, and that he has an irreproachable good name? Come in, come in!’
These last words were not addressed to Miss Sally, though they partook
of the tone in which the indignant remonstrances that preceded them had
been uttered. They were addressed to some person who had knocked at
the office-door; and they had hardly passed the lips of Mr Brass, when
this very Kit himself looked in.
‘Is the gentleman up-stairs, sir, if you please?’
‘Yes, Kit,’ said Brass, still fired with an honest indignation, and
frowning with knotted brows upon his sister; ‘Yes Kit, he is. I am
glad to see you Kit, I am rejoiced to see you. Look in again, as you
come down-stairs, Kit. That lad a robber!’ cried Brass when he had
withdrawn, ‘with that frank and open countenance! I’d trust him with
untold gold. Mr Richard, sir, have the goodness to step directly to
Wrasp and Co.’s in Broad Street, and inquire if they have had
instructions to appear in Carkem and Painter. THAT lad a robber,’
sneered Sampson, flushed and heated with his wrath. ‘Am I blind, deaf,
silly; do I know nothing of human nature when I see it before me? Kit
a robber! Bah!’
Flinging this final interjection at Miss Sally with immeasurable scorn
and contempt, Sampson Brass thrust his head into his desk, as if to
shut the base world from his view, and breathed defiance from under its
half-closed lid.
CHAPTER 59
When Kit, having discharged his errand, came down-stairs from the
single gentleman’s apartment after the lapse of a quarter of an hour or
so, Mr Sampson Brass was alone in the office. He was not singing as
usual, nor was he seated at his desk. The open door showed him
standing before the fire with his back towards it, and looking so very
strange that Kit supposed he must have been suddenly taken ill.
‘Is anything the matter, sir?’ said Kit.
‘Matter!’ cried Brass. ‘No. Why anything the matter?’
‘You are so very pale,’ said Kit, ‘that I should hardly have known you.’
‘Pooh pooh! mere fancy,’ cried Brass, stooping to throw up the cinders.
‘Never better, Kit, never better in all my life. Merry too. Ha ha!
How’s our friend above-stairs, eh?’
‘A great deal better,’ said Kit.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ rejoined Brass; ‘thankful, I may say. An
excellent gentleman--worthy, liberal, generous, gives very little
trouble--an admirable lodger. Ha ha! Mr Garland--he’s well I hope,
Kit--and the pony--my friend, my particular friend you know. Ha ha!’
Kit gave a satisfactory account of all the little household at Abel
Cottage. Mr Brass, who seemed remarkably inattentive and impatient,
mounted on his stool, and beckoning him to come nearer, took him by the
button-hole.
‘I have been thinking, Kit,’ said the lawyer, ‘that I could throw some
little emoluments in your mother’s way--You have a mother, I think? If
I recollect right, you told me--’
‘Oh yes, Sir, yes certainly.’
‘A widow, I think? an industrious widow?’
‘A harder-working woman or a better mother never lived, Sir.’
‘Ah!’ cried Brass. ‘That’s affecting, truly affecting. A poor widow
struggling to maintain her orphans in decency and comfort, is a
delicious picture of human goodness.--Put down your hat, Kit.’
‘Thank you Sir, I must be going directly.’
‘Put it down while you stay, at any rate,’ said Brass, taking it from
him and making some confusion among the papers, in finding a place for
it on the desk. ‘I was thinking, Kit, that we have often houses to let
for people we are concerned for, and matters of that sort. Now you
know we’re obliged to put people into those houses to take care of
‘em--very often undeserving people that we can’t depend upon. What’s
to prevent our having a person that we CAN depend upon, and enjoying
the delight of doing a good action at the same time? I say, what’s to
prevent our employing this worthy woman, your mother? What with one
job and another, there’s lodging--and good lodging too--pretty well
all the year round, rent free, and a weekly allowance besides, Kit,
that would provide her with a great many comforts she don’t at present
enjoy. Now what do you think of that? Do you see any objection? My
only desire is to serve you, Kit; therefore if you do, say so freely.’
As Brass spoke, he moved the hat twice or thrice, and shuffled among
the papers again, as if in search of something.
‘How can I see any objection to such a kind offer, sir?’ replied Kit
with his whole heart. ‘I don’t know how to thank you sir, I don’t
indeed.’
‘Why then,’ said Brass, suddenly turning upon him and thrusting his
face close to Kit’s with such a repulsive smile that the latter, even
in the very height of his gratitude, drew back, quite startled. ‘Why
then, it’s done.’
Kit looked at him in some confusion.
‘Done, I say,’ added Sampson, rubbing his hands and veiling himself
again in his usual oily manner. ‘Ha ha! and so you shall find Kit, so
you shall find. But dear me,’ said Brass, ‘what a time Mr Richard is
gone! A sad loiterer to be sure! Will you mind the office one minute,
while I run up-stairs? Only one minute. I’ll not detain you an
instant longer, on any account, Kit.’
Talking as he went, Mr Brass bustled out of the office, and in a very
short time returned. Mr Swiveller came back, almost at the same
instant; and as Kit was leaving the room hastily, to make up for lost
time, Miss Brass herself encountered him in the doorway.
‘Oh!’ sneered Sally, looking after him as she entered. ‘There goes
your pet, Sammy, eh?’
‘Ah! There he goes,’ replied Brass. ‘My pet, if you please. An
honest fellow, Mr Richard, sir--a worthy fellow indeed!’
‘Hem!’ coughed Miss Brass.
‘I tell you, you aggravating vagabond,’ said the angry Sampson, ‘that
I’d stake my life upon his honesty. Am I never to hear the last of
this? Am I always to be baited, and beset, by your mean suspicions?
Have you no regard for true merit, you malignant fellow? If you come
to that, I’d sooner suspect your honesty than his.’
Miss Sally pulled out the tin snuff-box, and took a long, slow pinch,
regarding her brother with a steady gaze all the time.
‘She drives me wild, Mr Richard, sir,’ said Brass, ‘she exasperates me
beyond all bearing. I am heated and excited, sir, I know I am. These
are not business manners, sir, nor business looks, but she carries me
out of myself.’
‘Why don’t you leave him alone?’ said Dick.
‘Because she can’t, sir,’ retorted Brass; ‘because to chafe and vex me
is a part of her nature, Sir, and she will and must do it, or I don’t
believe she’d have her health. But never mind,’ said Brass, ‘never
mind. I’ve carried my point. I’ve shown my confidence in the lad. He
has minded the office again. Ha ha! Ugh, you viper!’
The beautiful virgin took another pinch, and put the snuff-box in her
pocket; still looking at her brother with perfect composure.
‘He has minded the office again,’ said Brass triumphantly; ‘he has had
my confidence, and he shall continue to have it; he--why, where’s the--’
‘What have you lost?’ inquired Mr Swiveller.
‘Dear me!’ said Brass, slapping all his pockets, one after another, and
looking into his desk, and under it, and upon it, and wildly tossing
the papers about, ‘the note, Mr Richard, sir, the five-pound note--what
can have become of it? I laid it down here--God bless me!’
‘What!’ cried Miss Sally, starting up, clapping her hands, and
scattering the papers on the floor. ‘Gone! Now who’s right? Now
who’s got it? Never mind five pounds--what’s five pounds? He’s
honest, you know, quite honest. It would be mean to suspect him.
Don’t run after him. No, no, not for the world!’
‘Is it really gone though?’ said Dick, looking at Brass with a face as
pale as his own.
‘Upon my word, Mr Richard, Sir,’ replied the lawyer, feeling in all his
pockets with looks of the greatest agitation, ‘I fear this is a black
business. It’s certainly gone, Sir. What’s to be done?’
‘Don’t run after him,’ said Miss Sally, taking more snuff. ‘Don’t run
after him on any account. Give him time to get rid of it, you know.
It would be cruel to find him out!’
Mr Swiveller and Sampson Brass looked from Miss Sally to each other, in
a state of bewilderment, and then, as by one impulse, caught up their
hats and rushed out into the street--darting along in the middle of the
road, and dashing aside all obstructions, as though they were running
for their lives.
It happened that Kit had been running too, though not so fast, and
having the start of them by some few minutes, was a good distance
ahead. As they were pretty certain of the road he must have taken,
however, and kept on at a great pace, they came up with him, at the
very moment when he had taken breath, and was breaking into a run again.
‘Stop!’ cried Sampson, laying his hand on one shoulder, while Mr
Swiveller pounced upon the other. ‘Not so fast sir. You’re in a
hurry?’
‘Yes, I am,’ said Kit, looking from one to the other in great surprise.
‘I--I--can hardly believe it,’ panted Sampson, ‘but something of value
is missing from the office. I hope you don’t know what.’
‘Know what! good Heaven, Mr Brass!’ cried Kit, trembling from head to
foot; ‘you don’t suppose--’
‘No, no,’ rejoined Brass quickly, ‘I don’t suppose anything. Don’t say
I said you did. You’ll come back quietly, I hope?’
‘Of course I will,’ returned Kit. ‘Why not?’
‘To be sure!’ said Brass. ‘Why not? I hope there may turn out to be
no why not. If you knew the trouble I’ve been in, this morning,
through taking your part, Christopher, you’d be sorry for it.’
‘And I am sure you’ll be sorry for having suspected me sir,’ replied
Kit. ‘Come. Let us make haste back.’
‘Certainly!’ cried Brass, ‘the quicker, the better. Mr Richard--have
the goodness, sir, to take that arm. I’ll take this one. It’s not
easy walking three abreast, but under these circumstances it must be
done, sir; there’s no help for it.’
Kit did turn from white to red, and from red to white again, when they
secured him thus, and for a moment seemed disposed to resist. But,
quickly recollecting himself, and remembering that if he made any
struggle, he would perhaps be dragged by the collar through the public
streets, he only repeated, with great earnestness and with the tears
standing in his eyes, that they would be sorry for this--and suffered
them to lead him off. While they were on the way back, Mr Swiveller,
upon whom his present functions sat very irksomely, took an opportunity
of whispering in his ear that if he would confess his guilt, even by so
much as a nod, and promise not to do so any more, he would connive at
his kicking Sampson Brass on the shins and escaping up a court; but Kit
indignantly rejecting this proposal, Mr Richard had nothing for it, but
to hold him tight until they reached Bevis Marks, and ushered him into
the presence of the charming Sarah, who immediately took the precaution
of locking the door.