The Old Curiosity Shop
‘Now, you know,’ said Brass, ‘if this is a case of innocence, it is a
case of that description, Christopher, where the fullest disclosure is
the best satisfaction for everybody. Therefore if you’ll consent to an
examination,’ he demonstrated what kind of examination he meant by
turning back the cuffs of his coat, ‘it will be a comfortable and
pleasant thing for all parties.’
‘Search me,’ said Kit, proudly holding up his arms. ‘But mind, sir--I
know you’ll be sorry for this, to the last day of your life.’
‘It is certainly a very painful occurrence,’ said Brass with a sigh, as
he dived into one of Kit’s pockets, and fished up a miscellaneous
collection of small articles; ‘very painful. Nothing here, Mr Richard,
Sir, all perfectly satisfactory. Nor here, sir. Nor in the waistcoat,
Mr Richard, nor in the coat tails. So far, I am rejoiced, I am sure.’
Richard Swiveller, holding Kit’s hat in his hand, was watching the
proceedings with great interest, and bore upon his face the slightest
possible indication of a smile, as Brass, shutting one of his eyes,
looked with the other up the inside of one of the poor fellow’s sleeves
as if it were a telescope--when Sampson turning hastily to him, bade
him search the hat.
‘Here’s a handkerchief,’ said Dick.
‘No harm in that sir,’ rejoined Brass, applying his eye to the other
sleeve, and speaking in the voice of one who was contemplating an
immense extent of prospect. ‘No harm in a handkerchief Sir, whatever.
The faculty don’t consider it a healthy custom, I believe, Mr Richard,
to carry one’s handkerchief in one’s hat--I have heard that it keeps
the head too warm--but in every other point of view, its being there,
is extremely satisfactory--extremely so.’
An exclamation, at once from Richard Swiveller, Miss Sally, and Kit
himself, cut the lawyer short. He turned his head, and saw Dick
standing with the bank-note in his hand.
‘In the hat?’ cried Brass in a sort of shriek.
‘Under the handkerchief, and tucked beneath the lining,’ said Dick,
aghast at the discovery.
Mr Brass looked at him, at his sister, at the walls, at the ceiling, at
the floor--everywhere but at Kit, who stood quite stupefied and
motionless.
‘And this,’ cried Sampson, clasping his hands, ‘is the world that turns
upon its own axis, and has Lunar influences, and revolutions round
Heavenly Bodies, and various games of that sort! This is human natur,
is it! Oh natur, natur! This is the miscreant that I was going to
benefit with all my little arts, and that, even now, I feel so much
for, as to wish to let him go! But,’ added Mr Brass with greater
fortitude, ‘I am myself a lawyer, and bound to set an example in
carrying the laws of my happy country into effect. Sally my dear,
forgive me, and catch hold of him on the other side. Mr Richard, sir,
have the goodness to run and fetch a constable. The weakness is past
and over sir, and moral strength returns. A constable, sir, if you
please!’
CHAPTER 60
Kit stood as one entranced, with his eyes opened wide and fixed upon
the ground, regardless alike of the tremulous hold which Mr Brass
maintained on one side of his cravat, and of the firmer grasp of Miss
Sally upon the other; although this latter detention was in itself no
small inconvenience, as that fascinating woman, besides screwing her
knuckles inconveniently into his throat from time to time, had fastened
upon him in the first instance with so tight a grip that even in the
disorder and distraction of his thoughts he could not divest himself of
an uneasy sense of choking. Between the brother and sister he remained
in this posture, quite unresisting and passive, until Mr Swiveller
returned, with a police constable at his heels.
This functionary, being, of course, well used to such scenes; looking
upon all kinds of robbery, from petty larceny up to housebreaking or
ventures on the highway, as matters in the regular course of business;
and regarding the perpetrators in the light of so many customers coming
to be served at the wholesale and retail shop of criminal law where he
stood behind the counter; received Mr Brass’s statement of facts with
about as much interest and surprise, as an undertaker might evince if
required to listen to a circumstantial account of the last illness of a
person whom he was called in to wait upon professionally; and took Kit
into custody with a decent indifference.
‘We had better,’ said this subordinate minister of justice, ‘get to the
office while there’s a magistrate sitting. I shall want you to come
along with us, Mr Brass, and the--’ he looked at Miss Sally as if in
some doubt whether she might not be a griffin or other fabulous monster.
‘The lady, eh?’ said Sampson.
‘Ah!’ replied the constable. ‘Yes--the lady. Likewise the young man
that found the property.’
‘Mr Richard, Sir,’ said Brass in a mournful voice. ‘A sad necessity.
But the altar of our country sir--’
‘You’ll have a hackney-coach, I suppose?’ interrupted the constable,
holding Kit (whom his other captors had released) carelessly by the
arm, a little above the elbow. ‘Be so good as send for one, will you?’
‘But, hear me speak a word,’ cried Kit, raising his eyes and looking
imploringly about him. ‘Hear me speak a word. I am no more guilty
than any one of you. Upon my soul I am not. I a thief! Oh, Mr Brass,
you know me better. I am sure you know me better. This is not right
of you, indeed.’
‘I give you my word, constable--’ said Brass. But here the constable
interposed with the constitutional principle ‘words be blowed;’
observing that words were but spoon-meat for babes and sucklings, and
that oaths were the food for strong men.
‘Quite true, constable,’ assented Brass in the same mournful tone.
‘Strictly correct. I give you my oath, constable, that down to a few
minutes ago, when this fatal discovery was made, I had such confidence
in that lad, that I’d have trusted him with--a hackney-coach, Mr
Richard, sir; you’re very slow, Sir.’
‘Who is there that knows me,’ cried Kit, ‘that would not trust me--
that does not? ask anybody whether they have ever doubted me; whether I
have ever wronged them of a farthing. Was I ever once dishonest when I
was poor and hungry, and is it likely I would begin now! Oh consider
what you do. How can I meet the kindest friends that ever human
creature had, with this dreadful charge upon me!’
Mr Brass rejoined that it would have been well for the prisoner if he
had thought of that before and was about to make some other gloomy
observations when the voice of the single gentleman was heard,
demanding from above-stairs what was the matter, and what was the cause
of all that noise and hurry. Kit made an involuntary start towards the
door in his anxiety to answer for himself, but being speedily detained
by the constable, had the agony of seeing Sampson Brass run out alone
to tell the story in his own way.
‘And he can hardly believe it, either,’ said Sampson, when he returned,
‘nor nobody will. I wish I could doubt the evidence of my senses, but
their depositions are unimpeachable. It’s of no use cross-examining my
eyes,’ cried Sampson, winking and rubbing them, ‘they stick to their
first account, and will. Now, Sarah, I hear the coach in the Marks;
get on your bonnet, and we’ll be off. A sad errand! a moral funeral,
quite!’
‘Mr Brass,’ said Kit. ‘Do me one favour. Take me to Mr Witherden’s
first.’
Sampson shook his head irresolutely.
‘Do,’ said Kit. ‘My master’s there. For Heaven’s sake, take me there,
first.’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ stammered Brass, who perhaps had his reasons for
wishing to show as fair as possible in the eyes of the notary. ‘How do
we stand in point of time, constable, eh?’
The constable, who had been chewing a straw all this while with great
philosophy, replied that if they went away at once they would have time
enough, but that if they stood shilly-shallying there, any longer, they
must go straight to the Mansion House; and finally expressed his
opinion that that was where it was, and that was all about it.
Mr Richard Swiveller having arrived inside the coach, and still
remaining immoveable in the most commodious corner with his face to the
horses, Mr Brass instructed the officer to remove his prisoner, and
declared himself quite ready. Therefore, the constable, still holding
Kit in the same manner, and pushing him on a little before him, so as
to keep him at about three-quarters of an arm’s length in advance
(which is the professional mode), thrust him into the vehicle and
followed himself. Miss Sally entered next; and there being now four
inside, Sampson Brass got upon the box, and made the coachman drive on.
Still completely stunned by the sudden and terrible change which had
taken place in his affairs, Kit sat gazing out of the coach window,
almost hoping to see some monstrous phenomenon in the streets which
might give him reason to believe he was in a dream. Alas! Everything
was too real and familiar: the same succession of turnings, the same
houses, the same streams of people running side by side in different
directions upon the pavement, the same bustle of carts and carriages in
the road, the same well-remembered objects in the shop windows: a
regularity in the very noise and hurry which no dream ever mirrored.
Dream-like as the story was, it was true. He stood charged with
robbery; the note had been found upon him, though he was innocent in
thought and deed; and they were carrying him back, a prisoner.
Absorbed in these painful ruminations, thinking with a drooping heart
of his mother and little Jacob, feeling as though even the
consciousness of innocence would be insufficient to support him in the
presence of his friends if they believed him guilty, and sinking in
hope and courage more and more as they drew nearer to the notary’s,
poor Kit was looking earnestly out of the window, observant of
nothing,--when all at once, as though it had been conjured up by magic,
he became aware of the face of Quilp.
And what a leer there was upon the face! It was from the open window
of a tavern that it looked out; and the dwarf had so spread himself
over it, with his elbows on the window-sill and his head resting on
both his hands, that what between this attitude and his being swoln
with suppressed laughter, he looked puffed and bloated into twice his
usual breadth. Mr Brass, on recognising him, immediately stopped the
coach. As it came to a halt directly opposite to where he stood, the
dwarf pulled off his hat, and saluted the party with a hideous and
grotesque politeness.
‘Aha!’ he cried. ‘Where now, Brass? where now? Sally with you too?
Sweet Sally! And Dick? Pleasant Dick! And Kit! Honest Kit!’
‘He’s extremely cheerful!’ said Brass to the coachman. ‘Very much so!
Ah, sir--a sad business! Never believe in honesty any more, sir.’
‘Why not?’ returned the dwarf. ‘Why not, you rogue of a lawyer, why
not?’
‘Bank-note lost in our office sir,’ said Brass, shaking his head.
‘Found in his hat sir--he previously left alone there--no mistake at
all sir--chain of evidence complete--not a link wanting.’
‘What!’ cried the dwarf, leaning half his body out of window. ‘Kit a
thief! Kit a thief! Ha ha ha! Why, he’s an uglier-looking thief than
can be seen anywhere for a penny. Eh, Kit--eh? Ha ha ha! Have you
taken Kit into custody before he had time and opportunity to beat me!
Eh, Kit, eh?’ And with that, he burst into a yell of laughter,
manifestly to the great terror of the coachman, and pointed to a dyer’s
pole hard by, where a dangling suit of clothes bore some resemblance to
a man upon a gibbet.
‘Is it coming to that, Kit!’ cried the dwarf, rubbing his hands
violently. ‘Ha ha ha ha! What a disappointment for little Jacob, and