Martin Chuzzlewit

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  SHEDS NEW AND BRIGHTER LIGHT UPON THE VERY DARK PLACE; AND CONTAINS THESEQUEL OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR JONAS AND HIS FRIEND

  The night had now come, when the old clerk was to be delivered overto his keepers. In the midst of his guilty distractions, Jonas had notforgotten it.

  It was a part of his guilty state of mind to remember it; for on hispersistence in the scheme depended one of his precautions for his ownsafety. A hint, a word, from the old man, uttered at such a moment inattentive ears, might fire the train of suspicion, and destroy him. Hiswatchfulness of every avenue by which the discovery of his guilt mightbe approached, sharpened with his sense of the danger by which he wasencompassed. With murder on his soul, and its innumerable alarms andterrors dragging at him night and day, he would have repeated the crime,if he had seen a path of safety stretching out beyond. It was in hispunishment; it was in his guilty condition. The very deed which hisfears rendered insupportable, his fears would have impelled him tocommit again.

  But keeping the old man close, according to his design, would serve histurn. His purpose was to escape, when the first alarm and wonder hadsubsided; and when he could make the attempt without awakening instantsuspicion. In the meanwhile these women would keep him quiet; and ifthe talking humour came upon him, would not be easily startled. He knewtheir trade.

  Nor had he spoken idly when he said the old man should be gagged. He hadresolved to ensure his silence; and he looked to the end, not the means.He had been rough and rude and cruel to the old man all his life; andviolence was natural to his mind in connection with him. 'He shall begagged if he speaks, and pinioned if he writes,' said Jonas, looking athim; for they sat alone together. 'He is mad enough for that; I'll gothrough with it!'

  Hush!

  Still listening! To every sound. He had listened ever since, and ithad not come yet. The exposure of the Assurance office; the flight ofCrimple and Bullamy with the plunder, and among the rest, as he feared,with his own bill, which he had not found in the pocket-book of themurdered man, and which with Mr Pecksniff's money had probably beenremitted to one or other of those trusty friends for safe deposit at thebanker's; his immense losses, and peril of being still called to accountas a partner in the broken firm; all these things rose in his mind atone time and always, but he could not contemplate them. He was aware oftheir presence, and of the rage, discomfiture, and despair, they broughtalong with them; but he thought--of his own controlling power anddirection he thought--of the one dread question only. When they wouldfind the body in the wood.

  He tried--he had never left off trying--not to forget it was there, forthat was impossible, but to forget to weary himself by drawing vividpictures of it in his fancy; by going softly about it and about itamong the leaves, approaching it nearer and nearer through a gap in theboughs, and startling the very flies that were thickly sprinkled allover it, like heaps of dried currants. His mind was fixed and fastenedon the discovery, for intelligence of which he listened intently toevery cry and shout; listened when any one came in or went out; watchedfrom the window the people who passed up and down the street; mistrustedhis own looks and words. And the more his thoughts were set upon thediscovery, the stronger was the fascination which attracted them tothe thing itself; lying alone in the wood. He was for ever showing andpresenting it, as it were, to every creature whom he saw. 'Look here!Do you know of this? Is it found? Do you suspect ME?' If he had beencondemned to bear the body in his arms, and lay it down for recognitionat the feet of every one he met, it could not have been more constantlywith him, or a cause of more monotonous and dismal occupation than itwas in this state of his mind.

  Still he was not sorry. It was no contrition or remorse for what he haddone that moved him; it was nothing but alarm for his own security. Thevague consciousness he possessed of having wrecked his fortune in themurderous venture, intensified his hatred and revenge, and made him setthe greater store by what he had gained The man was dead; nothing couldundo that. He felt a triumph yet, in the reflection.

  He had kept a jealous watch on Chuffey ever since the deed; seldomleaving him but on compulsion, and then for as short intervals aspossible. They were alone together now. It was twilight, and theappointed time drew near at hand. Jonas walked up and down the room. Theold man sat in his accustomed corner.

  The slightest circumstance was matter of disquiet to the murderer, andhe was made uneasy at this time by the absence of his wife, who had lefthome early in the afternoon, and had not returned yet. No tendernessfor her was at the bottom of this; but he had a misgiving that shemight have been waylaid, and tempted into saying something that wouldcriminate him when the news came. For anything he knew, she might haveknocked at the door of his room, while he was away, and discovered hisplot. Confound her, it was like her pale face to be wandering up anddown the house! Where was she now?

  'She went to her good friend, Mrs Todgers,' said the old man, when heasked the question with an angry oath.

  Aye! To be sure! Always stealing away into the company of that woman.She was no friend of his. Who could tell what devil's mischief theymight hatch together! Let her be fetched home directly.

  The old man, muttering some words softly, rose as if he would have gonehimself, but Jonas thrust him back into his chair with an impatientimprecation, and sent a servant-girl to fetch her. When he had chargedher with her errand he walked to and fro again, and never stopped tillshe came back, which she did pretty soon; the way being short, and thewoman having made good haste.

  Well! Where was she? Had she come?

  No. She had left there, full three hours.

  'Left there! Alone?'

  The messenger had not asked; taking that for granted.

  'Curse you for a fool. Bring candles!'

  She had scarcely left the room when the old clerk, who had beenunusually observant of him ever since he had asked about his wife, camesuddenly upon him.

  'Give her up!' cried the old man. 'Come! Give her up to me! Tell me whatyou have done with her. Quick! I have made no promises on that score.Tell me what you have done with her.'

  He laid his hands upon his collar as he spoke, and grasped it; tightlytoo.

  'You shall not leave me!' cried the old man. 'I am strong enough to cryout to the neighbours, and I will, unless you give her up. Give her upto me!'

  Jonas was so dismayed and conscience-stricken, that he had not evenhardihood enough to unclench the old man's hands with his own; but stoodlooking at him as well as he could in the darkness, without moving afinger. It was as much as he could do to ask him what he meant.

  'I will know what you have done with her!' retorted Chuffey. 'If youhurt a hair of her head, you shall answer it. Poor thing! Poor thing!Where is she?'

  'Why, you old madman!' said Jonas, in a low voice, and with tremblinglips. 'What Bedlam fit has come upon you now?'

  'It is enough to make me mad, seeing what I have seen in this house!'cried Chuffey. 'Where is my dear old master! Where is his only son thatI have nursed upon my knee, a child! Where is she, she who was the last;she that I've seen pining day by day, and heard weeping in the dead ofnight! She was the last, the last of all my friends! Heaven help me, shewas the very last!'

  Seeing that the tears were stealing down his face, Jonas musteredcourage to unclench his hands, and push him off before he answered:

  'Did you hear me ask for her? Did you hear me send for her? How can Igive you up what I haven't got, idiot! Ecod, I'd give her up to you andwelcome, if I could; and a precious pair you'd be!'

  'If she has come to any harm,' cried Chuffey, 'mind! I'm old and silly;but I have my memory sometimes; and if she has come to any harm--'

  'Devil take you,' interrupted Jonas, but in a suppressed voice still;'what harm do you suppose she has come to? I know no more where she isthan you do; I wish I did. Wait till she comes home, and see; she can'tbe long. Will that content you?'

  'Mind!' exclaimed the old man. 'Not a hair of her head! not a hair ofher head ill-used! I won
't bear it. I--I--have borne it too long Jonas.I am silent, but I--I--I can speak. I--I--I can speak--' he stammered,as he crept back to his chair, and turned a threatening, though afeeble, look upon him.

  'You can speak, can you!' thought Jonas. 'So, so, we'll stop yourspeaking. It's well I knew of this in good time. Prevention is betterthan cure.'

  He had made a poor show of playing the bully and evincing a desire toconciliate at the same time, but was so afraid of the old man thatgreat drops had started out upon his brow; and they stood there yet. Hisunusual tone of voice and agitated manner had sufficiently expressed hisfear; but his face would have done so now, without that aid, as he againwalked to and fro, glancing at him by the candelight.

  He stopped at the window to think. An opposite shop was lighted up; andthe tradesman and a customer were reading some printed bill togetheracross the counter. The sight brought him back, instantly, to theoccupation he had forgotten. 'Look here! Do you know of this? Is itfound? Do you suspect ME?'

  A hand upon the door. 'What's that!'

  'A pleasant evenin',' said the voice of Mrs Gamp, 'though warm, which,bless you, Mr Chuzzlewit, we must expect when cowcumbers is three fortwopence. How does Mr Chuffey find his self to-night, sir?'

  Mrs Gamp kept particularly close to the door in saying this, andcurtseyed more than usual. She did not appear to be quite so much at herease as she generally was.

  'Get him to his room,' said Jonas, walking up to her, and speaking inher ear. 'He has been raving to-night--stark mad. Don't talk while he'shere, but come down again.'

  'Poor sweet dear!' cried Mrs Gamp, with uncommon tenderness. 'He's allof a tremble.'

  'Well he may be,' said Jonas, 'after the mad fit he has had. Get himupstairs.'

  She was by this time assisting him to rise.

  'There's my blessed old chick!' cried Mrs Gamp, in a tone that was atonce soothing and encouraging. 'There's my darlin' Mr Chuffey! Now comeup to your own room, sir, and lay down on your bed a bit; for you'rea-shakin' all over, as if your precious jints was hung upon wires.That's a good creetur! Come with Sairey!'

  'Is she come home?' inquired the old man.

  'She'll be here directly minit,' returned Mrs Gamp. 'Come with Sairey,Mr Chuffey. Come with your own Sairey!'

  The good woman had no reference to any female in the world in promisingthis speedy advent of the person for whom Mr Chuffey inquired, butmerely threw it out as a means of pacifying the old man. It had itseffect, for he permitted her to lead him away; and they quitted the roomtogether.

  Jonas looked out of the window again. They were still reading theprinted paper in the shop opposite, and a third man had joined in theperusal. What could it be, to interest them so?'

  A dispute or discussion seemed to arise among them, for they all lookedup from their reading together, and one of the three, who had beenglancing over the shoulder of another, stepped back to explain orillustrate some action by his gestures.

  Horror! How like the blow he had struck in the wood!

  It beat him from the window as if it had lighted on himself. As hestaggered into a chair, he thought of the change in Mrs Gamp exhibitedin her new-born tenderness to her charge. Was that because it wasfound?--because she knew of it?--because she suspected him?

  'Mr Chuffey is a-lyin' down,' said Mrs Gamp, returning, 'and much goodmay it do him, Mr Chuzzlewit, which harm it can't and good it may; bejoyful!'

  'Sit down,' said Jonas, hoarsely, 'and let us get this business done.Where is the other woman?'

  'The other person's with him now,' she answered.

  'That's right,' said Jonas. 'He is not fit to be left to himself. Why,he fastened on me to-night; here, upon my coat; like a savage dog. Oldas he is, and feeble as he is usually, I had some trouble to shake himoff. You--Hush!--It's nothing. You told me the other woman's name. Iforget it.'

  'I mentioned Betsey Prig,' said Mrs Gamp.

  'She is to be trusted, is she?'

  'That she ain't!' said Mrs Gamp; 'nor have I brought her, Mr Chuzzlewit.I've brought another, which engages to give every satigefaction.'

  'What is her name?' asked Jonas.

  Mrs Gamp looked at him in an odd way without returning any answer, butappeared to understand the question too.

  'What is her name?' repeated Jonas.

  'Her name,' said Mrs Gamp, 'is Harris.'

  It was extraordinary how much effort it cost Mrs Gamp to pronounce thename she was commonly so ready with. She made some three or four gaspsbefore she could get it out; and, when she had uttered it, pressed herhand upon her side, and turned up her eyes, as if she were going tofaint away. But, knowing her to labour under a complication of internaldisorders, which rendered a few drops of spirits indispensable atcertain times to her existence, and which came on very strong when thatremedy was not at hand, Jonas merely supposed her to be the victim ofone of these attacks.

  'Well!' he said, hastily, for he felt how incapable he was of confininghis wandering attention to the subject. 'You and she have arranged totake care of him, have you?'

  Mrs Gamp replied in the affirmative, and softly discharged herself ofher familiar phrase, 'Turn and turn about; one off, one on.' Butshe spoke so tremulously that she felt called upon to add, 'whichfiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my nerves this night!'

  Jonas stopped to listen. Then said, hurriedly:

  'We shall not quarrel about terms. Let them be the same as they werebefore. Keep him close, and keep him quiet. He must be restrained.He has got it in his head to-night that my wife's dead, and has beenattacking me as if I had killed her. It's--it's common with mad peopleto take the worst fancies of those they like best. Isn't it?'

  Mrs Gamp assented with a short groan.

  'Keep him close, then, or in one of his fits he'll be doing me amischief. And don't trust him at any time; for when he seems mostrational, he's wildest in his talk. But that you know already. Let mesee the other.'

  'The t'other person, sir?' said Mrs Gamp.

  'Aye! Go you to him and send the other. Quick! I'm busy.'

  Mrs Gamp took two or three backward steps towards the door, and stoppedthere.

  'It is your wishes, Mr Chuzzlewit,' she said, in a sort of quaveringcroak, 'to see the t'other person. Is it?'

  But the ghastly change in Jonas told her that the other person wasalready seen. Before she could look round towards the door, she was putaside by old Martin's hand; and Chuffey and John Westlock entered withhim.

  'Let no one leave the house,' said Martin. 'This man is my brother'sson. Ill-met, ill-trained, ill-begotten. If he moves from the spot onwhich he stands, or speaks a word above his breath to any person here,open the window, and call for help!'

  'What right have you to give such directions in this house?' asked Jonasfaintly.

  'The right of your wrong-doing. Come in there!'

  An irrepressible exclamation burst from the lips of Jonas, as Lewsomeentered at the door. It was not a groan, or a shriek, or a word, but waswholly unlike any sound that had ever fallen on the ears of those whoheard it, while at the same time it was the most sharp and terribleexpression of what was working in his guilty breast, that nature couldhave invented.

  He had done murder for this! He had girdled himself about with perils,agonies of mind, innumerable fears, for this! He had hidden his secretin the wood; pressed and stamped it down into the bloody ground; andhere it started up when least expected, miles upon miles away; known tomany; proclaiming itself from the lips of an old man who had renewed hisstrength and vigour as by a miracle, to give it voice against him!

  He leaned his hand on the back of a chair, and looked at them. It wasin vain to try to do so scornfully, or with his usual insolence. Herequired the chair for his support. But he made a struggle for it.

  'I know that fellow,' he said, fetching his breath at every word, andpointing his trembling finger towards Lewsome. 'He's the greatest liaralive. What's his last tale? Ha, ha! You're rare fellows, too! Why, thatuncle of mine is childish; he's even a greater
child than his brother,my father, was, in his old age; or than Chuffey is. What the devil doyou mean,' he added, looking fiercely at John Westlock and Mark Tapley(the latter had entered with Lewsome), 'by coming here, and bringingtwo idiots and a knave with you to take my house by storm? Hallo, there!Open the door! Turn these strangers out!'

  'I tell you what,' cried Mr Tapley, coming forward, 'if it wasn'tfor your name, I'd drag you through the streets of my own accord, andsingle-handed I would! Ah, I would! Don't try and look bold at me.You can't do it! Now go on, sir,' this was to old Martin. 'Bring themurderin' wagabond upon his knees! If he wants noise, he shall haveenough of it; for as sure as he's a shiverin' from head to foot I'llraise a uproar at this winder that shall bring half London in. Go on,sir! Let him try me once, and see whether I'm a man of my word or not.'

  With that, Mark folded his arms, and took his seat upon thewindow-ledge, with an air of general preparation for anything, whichseemed to imply that he was equally ready to jump out himself, or tothrow Jonas out, upon receiving the slightest hint that it would beagreeable to the company.

  Old Martin turned to Lewsome:

  'This is the man,' he said, extending his hand towards Jonas. 'Is it?'

  'You need do no more than look at him to be sure of that, or of thetruth of what I have said,' was the reply. 'He is my witness.'

  'Oh, brother!' cried old Martin, clasping his hands and lifting up hiseyes. 'Oh, brother, brother! Were we strangers half our lives that youmight breed a wretch like this, and I make life a desert by witheringevery flower that grew about me! Is it the natural end of your preceptsand mine, that this should be the creature of your rearing, training,teaching, hoarding, striving for; and I the means of bringing him topunishment, when nothing can repair the wasted past!'

  He sat down upon a chair as he spoke, and turning away his face, wassilent for a few moments. Then with recovered energy he proceeded:

  'But the accursed harvest of our mistaken lives shall be trodden down.It is not too late for that. You are confronted with this man, youmonster there; not to be spared, but to be dealt with justly. Hear whathe says! Reply, be silent, contradict, repeat, defy, do what you please.My course will be the same. Go on! And you,' he said to Chuffey, 'forthe love of your old friend, speak out, good fellow!'

  'I have been silent for his love!' cried the old man. 'He urged me toit. He made me promise it upon his dying bed. I never would have spoken,but for your finding out so much. I have thought about it ever since;I couldn't help that; and sometimes I have had it all before me ina dream; but in the day-time, not in sleep. Is there such a kind ofdream?' said Chuffey, looking anxiously in old Martin's face.

  As Martin made him an encouraging reply, he listened attentively to hisvoice, and smiled.

  'Ah, aye!' he cried. 'He often spoke to me like that. We were at schooltogether, he and I. I couldn't turn against his son, you know--his onlyson, Mr Chuzzlewit!'

  'I would to Heaven you had been his son!' said Martin.

  'You speak so like my dear old master,' cried the old man with achildish delight, 'that I almost think I hear him. I can hear you quiteas well as I used to hear him. It makes me young again. He never spokeunkindly to me, and I always understood him. I could always see him too,though my sight was dim. Well, well! He's dead, he's dead. He was verygood to me, my dear old master!'

  He shook his head mournfully over the brother's hand. At this momentMark, who had been glancing out of the window, left the room.

  'I couldn't turn against his only son, you know,' said Chuffey. 'He hasnearly driven me to do it sometimes; he very nearly did tonight. Ah!'cried the old man, with a sudden recollection of the cause. 'Where isshe? She's not come home!'

  'Do you mean his wife?' said Mr Chuzzlewit.

  'Yes.'

  'I have removed her. She is in my care, and will be spared the presentknowledge of what is passing here. She has known misery enough, withoutthat addition.'

  Jonas heard this with a sinking heart. He knew that they were on hisheels, and felt that they were resolute to run him to destruction. Inchby inch the ground beneath him was sliding from his feet; faster andfaster the encircling ruin contracted and contracted towards himself,its wicked centre, until it should close in and crush him.

  And now he heard the voice of his accomplice stating to his face,with every circumstance of time and place and incident; and openlyproclaiming, with no reserve, suppression, passion, or concealment; allthe truth. The truth, which nothing would keep down; which bloodwould not smother, and earth would not hide; the truth, whose terribleinspiration seemed to change dotards into strong men; and on whoseavenging wings, one whom he had supposed to be at the extremest cornerof the earth came swooping down upon him.

  He tried to deny it, but his tongue would not move. He conceived somedesperate thought of rushing away, and tearing through the streets; buthis limbs would as little answer to his will as his stark, stiff staringface. All this time the voice went slowly on, denouncing him. It was asif every drop of blood in the wood had found a voice to jeer him with.

  When it ceased, another voice took up the tale, but strangely; for theold clerk, who had watched, and listened to the whole, and had wrung hishands from time to time, as if he knew its truth and could confirm it,broke in with these words:

  'No, no, no! you're wrong; you're wrong--all wrong together! Havepatience, for the truth is only known to me!'

  'How can that be,' said his old master's brother, 'after what you haveheard? Besides, you said just now, above-stairs, when I told you of theaccusation against him, that you knew he was his father's murderer.'

  'Aye, yes! and so he was!' cried Chuffey, wildly. 'But not as yousuppose--not as you suppose. Stay! Give me a moment's time. I haveit all here--all here! It was foul, foul, cruel, bad; but not as yousuppose. Stay, stay!'

  He put his hands up to his head, as if it throbbed or pained him. Afterlooking about him in a wandering and vacant manner for some moments, hiseyes rested upon Jonas, when they kindled up with sudden recollectionand intelligence.

  'Yes!' cried old Chuffey, 'yes! That's how it was. It's all upon me now.He--he got up from his bed before he died, to be sure, to say that heforgave him; and he came down with me into this room; and when he sawhim--his only son, the son he loved--his speech forsook him; he hadno speech for what he knew--and no one understood him except me. But Idid--I did!'

  Old Martin regarded him in amazement; so did his companions. Mrs Gamp,who had said nothing yet; but had kept two-thirds of herself behind thedoor, ready for escape, and one-third in the room, ready for siding withthe strongest party; came a little further in and remarked, with a sob,that Mr Chuffey was 'the sweetest old creetur goin'.'

  'He bought the stuff,' said Chuffey, stretching out his arm towardsJonas while an unwonted fire shone in his eye, and lightened up hisface; 'he bought the stuff, no doubt, as you have heard, and brought ithome. He mixed the stuff--look at him!--with some sweetmeat in a jar,exactly as the medicine for his father's cough was mixed, and put itin a drawer; in that drawer yonder in the desk; he knows which drawerI mean! He kept it there locked up. But his courage failed him or hisheart was touched--my God! I hope it was his heart! He was his onlyson!--and he did not put it in the usual place, where my old masterwould have taken it twenty times a day.'

  The trembling figure of the old man shook with the strong emotions thatpossessed him. But, with the same light in his eye, and with his armoutstretched, and with his grey hair stirring on his head, he seemed togrow in size, and was like a man inspired. Jonas shrunk from looking athim, and cowered down into the chair by which he had held. It seemed asif this tremendous Truth could make the dumb speak.

  'I know it every word now!' cried Chuffey. 'Every word! He put it inthat drawer, as I have said. He went so often there, and was so secret,that his father took notice of it; and when he was out, had it opened.We were there together, and we found the mixture--Mr Chuzzlewit and I.He took it into his possession, and made light of it at the time; but inthe ni
ght he came to my bedside, weeping, and told me that his own sonhad it in his mind to poison him. "Oh, Chuff," he said, "oh, dear oldChuff! a voice came into my room to-night, and told me that this crimebegan with me. It began when I taught him to be too covetous of what Ihave to leave, and made the expectation of it his great business!" Thosewere his words; aye, they are his very words! If he was a hard man nowand then, it was for his only son. He loved his only son, and he wasalways good to me!'

  Jonas listened with increased attention. Hope was breaking in upon him.

  '"He shall not weary for my death, Chuff;" that was what he said next,'pursued the old clerk, as he wiped his eyes; 'that was what he saidnext, crying like a little child: "He shall not weary for my death,Chuff. He shall have it now; he shall marry where he has a fancy, Chuff,although it don't please me; and you and I will go away and live upon alittle. I always loved him; perhaps he'll love me then. It's a dreadfulthing to have my own child thirsting for my death. But I might haveknown it. I have sown, and I must reap. He shall believe that I amtaking this; and when I see that he is sorry, and has all he wants, I'lltell him that I found it out, and I'll forgive him. He'll make a betterman of his own son, and be a better man himself, perhaps, Chuff!"'

  Poor Chuffey paused to dry his eyes again. Old Martin's face was hiddenin his hands. Jonas listened still more keenly, and his breast heavedlike a swollen water, but with hope. With growing hope.

  'My dear old master made believe next day,' said Chuffey, 'that he hadopened the drawer by mistake with a key from the bunch, which happenedto fit it (we had one made and hung upon it); and that he had beensurprised to find his fresh supply of cough medicine in such a place,but supposed it had been put there in a hurry when the drawer stoodopen. We burnt it; but his son believed that he was taking it--he knowshe did. Once Mr Chuzzlewit, to try him, took heart to say it had astrange taste; and he got up directly, and went out.'

  Jonas gave a short, dry cough; and, changing his position for an easierone, folded his arms without looking at them, though they could now seehis face.

  'Mr Chuzzlewit wrote to her father; I mean the father of the poor thingwho's his wife,' said Chuffey; 'and got him to come up, intending tohasten on the marriage. But his mind, like mine, went a little wrongthrough grief, and then his heart broke. He sank and altered from thetime when he came to me in the night; and never held up his head again.It was only a few days, but he had never changed so much in twice theyears. "Spare him, Chuff!" he said, before he died. They were the onlywords he could speak. "Spare him, Chuff!" I promised him I would. I'vetried to do it. He's his only son.'

  On his recollection of the last scene in his old friend's life, poorChuffey's voice, which had grown weaker and weaker, quite deserted him.Making a motion with his hand, as if he would have said that Anthony hadtaken it, and had died with it in his, he retreated to the corner wherehe usually concealed his sorrows; and was silent.

  Jonas could look at his company now, and vauntingly too. 'Well!' hesaid, after a pause. 'Are you satisfied? or have you any more of yourplots to broach? Why that fellow, Lewsome, can invent 'em for you by thescore. Is this all? Have you nothing else?'

  Old Martin looked at him steadily.

  'Whether you are what you seemed to be at Pecksniff's, or are somethingelse and a mountebank, I don't know and I don't care,' said Jonas,looking downward with a smile, 'but I don't want you here. You were hereso often when your brother was alive, and were always so fond of him(your dear, dear brother, and you would have been cuffing one anotherbefore this, ecod!), that I am not surprised at your being attached tothe place; but the place is not attached to you, and you can't leave ittoo soon, though you may leave it too late. And for my wife, old man,send her home straight, or it will be the worse for her. Ha, ha! Youcarry it with a high hand, too! But it isn't hanging yet for a man tokeep a penn'orth of poison for his own purposes, and have it taken fromhim by two old crazy jolter-heads who go and act a play about it. Ha,ha! Do you see the door?'

  His base triumph, struggling with his cowardice, and shame, and guilt,was so detestable, that they turned away from him, as if he were someobscene and filthy animal, repugnant to the sight. And here that lastblack crime was busy with him too; working within him to his perdition.But for that, the old clerk's story might have touched him, though neverso lightly; but for that, the sudden removal of so great a load mighthave brought about some wholesome change even in him. With that deeddone, however; with that unnecessary wasteful danger haunting him;despair was in his very triumph and relief; wild, ungovernable, ragingdespair, for the uselessness of the peril into which he had plunged;despair that hardened him and maddened him, and set his teeth a-grindingin a moment of his exultation.

  'My good friend!' said old Martin, laying his hand on Chuffey's sleeve.'This is no place for you to remain in. Come with me.'

  'Just his old way!' cried Chuffey, looking up into his face. 'I almostbelieve it's Mr Chuzzlewit alive again. Yes! Take me with you! Stay,though, stay.'

  'For what?' asked old Martin.

  'I can't leave her, poor thing!' said Chuffey. 'She has been very goodto me. I can't leave her, Mr Chuzzlewit. Thank you kindly. I'll remainhere. I haven't long to remain; it's no great matter.'

  As he meekly shook his poor, grey head, and thanked old Martin in thesewords, Mrs Gamp, now entirely in the room, was affected to tears.

  'The mercy as it is!' she said, 'as sech a dear, good, reverend creeturnever got into the clutches of Betsey Prig, which but for me he wouldhave done, undoubted; facts bein' stubborn and not easy drove!'

  'You heard me speak to you just now, old man,' said Jonas to his uncle.'I'll have no more tampering with my people, man or woman. Do you seethe door?'

  'Do YOU see the door?' returned the voice of Mark, coming from thatdirection. 'Look at it!'

  He looked, and his gaze was nailed there. Fatal, ill-omened blightedthreshold, cursed by his father's footsteps in his dying hour, cursed byhis young wife's sorrowing tread, cursed by the daily shadow of the oldclerk's figure, cursed by the crossing of his murderer's feet--what menwere standing in the door way!

  Nadgett foremost.

  Hark! It came on, roaring like a sea! Hawkers burst into the street,crying it up and down; windows were thrown open that the inhabitantsmight hear it; people stopped to listen in the road and on the pavement;the bells, the same bells, began to ring; tumbling over one another in adance of boisterous joy at the discovery (that was the sound they had inhis distempered thoughts), and making their airy play-ground rock.

  'That is the man,' said Nadgett. 'By the window!'

  Three others came in, laid hands upon him, and secured him. It was soquickly done, that he had not lost sight of the informer's face for aninstant when his wrists were manacled together.

  'Murder,' said Nadgett, looking round on the astonished group. 'Let noone interfere.'

  The sounding street repeated Murder; barbarous and dreadful Murder.Murder, Murder, Murder. Rolling on from house to house, and echoing fromstone to stone, until the voices died away into the distant hum, whichseemed to mutter the same word!

  They all stood silent: listening, and gazing in each other's faces, asthe noise passed on.

  Old Martin was the first to speak. 'What terrible history is this?' hedemanded.

  'Ask HIM,' said Nadgett. 'You're his friend, sir. He can tell you, if hewill. He knows more of it than I do, though I know much.'

  'How do you know much?'

  'I have not been watching him so long for nothing,' returned Nadgett. 'Inever watched a man so close as I have watched him.'

  Another of the phantom forms of this terrific Truth! Another of the manyshapes in which it started up about him, out of vacancy. This man, ofall men in the world, a spy upon him; this man, changing his identity;casting off his shrinking, purblind, unobservant character, andspringing up into a watchful enemy! The dead man might have come out ofhis grave, and not confounded and appalled him more.

  The game was up. The race was at an end;
the rope was woven for hisneck. If, by a miracle, he could escape from this strait, he had but toturn his face another way, no matter where, and there would rise somenew avenger front to front with him; some infant in an hour grown old,or old man in an hour grown young, or blind man with his sight restored,or deaf man with his hearing given him. There was no chance. He sankdown in a heap against the wall, and never hoped again from that moment.

  'I am not his friend, although I have the honour to be his relative,'said Mr Chuzzlewit. 'You may speak to me. Where have you watched, andwhat have you seen?'

  'I have watched in many places,' returned Nadgett, 'night and day. Ihave watched him lately, almost without rest or relief;' his anxiousface and bloodshot eyes confirmed it. 'I little thought to what mywatching was to lead. As little as he did when he slipped out in thenight, dressed in those clothes which he afterwards sunk in a bundle atLondon Bridge!'

  Jonas moved upon the ground like a man in bodily torture. He uttered asuppressed groan, as if he had been wounded by some cruel weapon; andplucked at the iron band upon his wrists, as though (his hands beingfree) he would have torn himself.

  'Steady, kinsman!' said the chief officer of the party. 'Don't beviolent.'

  'Whom do you call kinsman?' asked old Martin sternly.

  'You,' said the man, 'among others.'

  Martin turned his scrutinizing gaze upon him. He was sitting lazilyacross a chair with his arms resting on the back; eating nuts, andthrowing the shells out of window as he cracked them, which he stillcontinued to do while speaking.

  'Aye,' he said, with a sulky nod. 'You may deny your nephews till youdie; but Chevy Slyme is Chevy Slyme still, all the world over. Perhapseven you may feel it some disgrace to your own blood to be employed inthis way. I'm to be bought off.'

  'At every turn!' cried Martin. 'Self, self, self. Every one among themfor himself!'

  'You had better save one or two among them the trouble then and be forthem as well as YOURself,' replied his nephew. 'Look here at me! Can yousee the man of your family who has more talent in his little finger thanall the rest in their united brains, dressed as a police officer withoutbeing ashamed? I took up with this trade on purpose to shame you. Ididn't think I should have to make a capture in the family, though.'

  'If your debauchery, and that of your chosen friends, has really broughtyou to this level,' returned the old man, 'keep it. You are livinghonestly, I hope, and that's something.'

  'Don't be hard upon my chosen friends,' returned Slyme, 'for they weresometimes your chosen friends too. Don't say you never employed myfriend Tigg, for I know better. We quarrelled upon it.'

  'I hired the fellow,' retorted Mr Chuzzlewit, 'and I paid him.'

  'It's well you paid him,' said his nephew, 'for it would be too late todo so now. He has given his receipt in full; or had it forced from himrather.'

  The old man looked at him as if he were curious to know what he meant,but scorned to prolong the conversation.

  'I have always expected that he and I would be brought together again inthe course of business,' said Slyme, taking a fresh handful of nuts fromhis pocket; 'but I thought he would be wanted for some swindling job; itnever entered my head that I should hold a warrant for the apprehensionof his murderer.'

  'HIS murderer!' cried Mr Chuzzlewit, looking from one to another.

  'His or Mr Montague's,' said Nadgett. 'They are the same, I am told.I accuse him yonder of the murder of Mr Montague, who was found lastnight, killed, in a wood. You will ask me why I accuse him as you havealready asked me how I know so much. I'll tell you. It can't remain asecret long.'

  The ruling passion of the man expressed itself even then, in the tone ofregret in which he deplored the approaching publicity of what he knew.

  'I told you I had watched him,' he proceeded. 'I was instructed to doso by Mr Montague, in whose employment I have been for some time. We hadour suspicions of him; and you know what they pointed at, for you havebeen discussing it since we have been waiting here, outside the room. Ifyou care to hear, now it's all over, in what our suspicions began, I'lltell you plainly: in a quarrel (it first came to our ears through a hintof his own) between him and another office in which his father's lifewas insured, and which had so much doubt and distrust upon the subject,that he compounded with them, and took half the money; and was glad todo it. Bit by bit, I ferreted out more circumstances against him, andnot a few. It required a little patience, but it's my calling. I foundthe nurse--here she is to confirm me; I found the doctor, I foundthe undertaker, I found the undertaker's man. I found out how the oldgentleman there, Mr Chuffey, had behaved at the funeral; and I found outwhat this man,' touching Lewsome on the arm, 'had talked about in hisfever. I found out how he conducted himself before his father's death,and how since and how at the time; and writing it all down, and puttingit carefully together, made case enough for Mr Montague to tax himwith the crime, which (as he himself believed until to-night) he hadcommitted. I was by when this was done. You see him now. He is onlyworse than he was then.'

  Oh, miserable, miserable fool! oh, insupportable, excruciating torture!To find alive and active--a party to it all--the brain and right-handof the secret he had thought to crush! In whom, though he had walled themurdered man up, by enchantment in a rock, the story would have livedand walked abroad! He tried to stop his ears with his fettered arms,that he might shut out the rest.

  As he crouched upon the floor, they drew away from him as if apestilence were in his breath. They fell off, one by one, from that partof the room, leaving him alone upon the ground. Even those who had himin their keeping shunned him, and (with the exception of Slyme, who wasstill occupied with his nuts) kept apart.

  'From that garret-window opposite,' said Nadgett, pointing across thenarrow street, 'I have watched this house and him for days and nights.From that garret-window opposite I saw him return home, alone, from ajourney on which he had set out with Mr Montague. That was my token thatMr Montague's end was gained; and I might rest easy on my watch, thoughI was not to leave it until he dismissed me. But, standing at the dooropposite, after dark that same night, I saw a countryman steal out ofthis house, by a side-door in the court, who had never entered it.I knew his walk, and that it was himself, disguised. I followed himimmediately. I lost him on the western road, still travelling westward.'

  Jonas looked up at him for an instant, and muttered an oath.

  'I could not comprehend what this meant,' said Nadgett; 'but, havingseen so much, I resolved to see it out, and through. And I did.Learning, on inquiry at his house from his wife, that he was supposedto be sleeping in the room from which I had seen him go out, and that hehad given strict orders not to be disturbed, I knew that he wascoming back; and for his coming back I watched. I kept my watch inthe street--in doorways, and such places--all that night; at the samewindow, all next day; and when night came on again, in the street oncemore. For I knew he would come back, as he had gone out, when this partof the town was empty. He did. Early in the morning, the same countrymancame creeping, creeping, creeping home.'

  'Look sharp!' interposed Slyme, who had now finished his nuts. 'This isquite irregular, Mr Nadgett.'

  'I kept at the window all day,' said Nadgett, without heeding him.'I think I never closed my eyes. At night, I saw him come out with abundle. I followed him again. He went down the steps at London Bridge,and sunk it in the river. I now began to entertain some serious fears,and made a communication to the Police, which caused that bundle tobe--'

  'To be fished up,' interrupted Slyme. 'Be alive, Mr Nadgett.'

  'It contained the dress I had seen him wear,' said Nadgett; 'stainedwith clay, and spotted with blood. Information of the murder wasreceived in town last night. The wearer of that dress is alreadyknown to have been seen near the place; to have been lurking in thatneighbourhood; and to have alighted from a coach coming from that partof the country, at a time exactly tallying with the very minute whenI saw him returning home. The warrant has been out, and these officershave been with me
, some hours. We chose our time; and seeing you comein, and seeing this person at the window--'

  'Beckoned to him,' said Mark, taking up the thread of the narrative, onhearing this allusion to himself, 'to open the door; which he did with adeal of pleasure.'

  'That's all at present,' said Nadgett, putting up his great pocketbook,which from mere habit he had produced when he began his revelation, andhad kept in his hand all the time; 'but there is plenty more to come.You asked me for the facts, so far I have related them, and need notdetain these gentlemen any longer. Are you ready, Mr Slyme?'

  'And something more,' replied that worthy, rising. 'If you walk round tothe office, we shall be there as soon as you. Tom! Get a coach!'

  The officer to whom he spoke departed for that purpose. Old Martinlingered for a few moments, as if he would have addressed some wordsto Jonas; but looking round, and seeing him still seated on the floor,rocking himself in a savage manner to and fro, took Chuffey's arm, andslowly followed Nadgett out. John Westlock and Mark Tapley accompaniedthem. Mrs Gamp had tottered out first, for the better display of herfeelings, in a kind of walking swoon; for Mrs Gamp performed swoons ofdifferent sorts, upon a moderate notice, as Mr Mould did Funerals.

  'Ha!' muttered Slyme, looking after them. 'Upon my soul! As insensibleof being disgraced by having such a nephew as myself, in such asituation, as he was of my being an honour and a credit to the family!That's the return I get for having humbled my spirit--such a spirit asmine--to earn a livelihood, is it?'

  He got up from his chair, and kicked it away indignantly.

  'And such a livelihood too! When there are hundreds of men, not fit tohold a candle to me, rolling in carriages and living on their fortunes.Upon my soul it's a nice world!'

  His eyes encountered Jonas, who looked earnestly towards him, and movedhis lips as if he were whispering.

  'Eh?' said Slyme.

  Jonas glanced at the attendant whose back was towards him, and made aclumsy motion with his bound hands towards the door.

  'Humph!' said Slyme, thoughtfully. 'I couldn't hope to disgrace him intoanything when you have shot so far ahead of me though. I forgot that.'

  Jonas repeated the same look and gesture.

  'Jack!' said Slyme.

  'Hallo!' returned his man.

  'Go down to the door, ready for the coach. Call out when it comes. I'drather have you there. Now then,' he added, turning hastily to Jonas,when the man was gone. 'What's the matter?'

  Jonas essayed to rise.

  'Stop a bit,' said Slyme. 'It's not so easy when your wrists are tighttogether. Now then! Up! What is it?'

  'Put your hand in my pocket. Here! The breast pocket, on the left!' saidJonas.

  He did so; and drew out a purse.

  'There's a hundred pound in it,' said Jonas, whose words were almostunintelligible; as his face, in its pallor and agony, was scarcelyhuman.

  Slyme looked at him; gave it into his hands; and shook his head.

  'I can't. I daren't. I couldn't if I dared. Those fellows below--'

  'Escape's impossible,' said Jonas. 'I know it. One hundred pound foronly five minutes in the next room!'

  'What to do?' he asked.

  The face of his prisoner as he advanced to whisper in his ear, made himrecoil involuntarily. But he stopped and listened to him. The words werefew, but his own face changed as he heard them.

  'I have it about me,' said Jonas, putting his hands to his throat, asthough whatever he referred to were hidden in his neckerchief. 'Howshould you know of it? How could you know? A hundred pound for only fiveminutes in the next room! The time's passing. Speak!'

  'It would be more--more creditable to the family,' observed Slyme, withtrembling lips. 'I wish you hadn't told me half so much. Less would haveserved your purpose. You might have kept it to yourself.'

  'A hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room! Speak!' criedJonas, desperately.

  He took the purse. Jonas, with a wild unsteady step, retreated to thedoor in the glass partition.

  'Stop!' cried Slyme, catching at his skirts. 'I don't know about this.Yet it must end so at last. Are you guilty?'

  'Yes!' said Jonas.

  'Are the proofs as they were told just now?'

  'Yes!' said Jonas.

  'Will you--will you engage to say a--a Prayer, now, or something of thatsort?' faltered Slyme.

  Jonas broke from him without replying, and closed the door between them.

  Slyme listened at the keyhole. After that, he crept away on tiptoe, asfar off as he could; and looked awfully towards the place. He was rousedby the arrival of the coach, and their letting down the steps.

  'He's getting a few things together,' he said, leaning out of window,and speaking to the two men below, who stood in the full light of astreet-lamp. 'Keep your eye upon the back, one of you, for form's sake.'

  One of the men withdrew into the court. The other, seating himself selfon the steps of the coach, remained in conversation with Slyme at thewindow who perhaps had risen to be his superior, in virtue of his oldpropensity (one so much lauded by the murdered man) of being alwaysround the corner. A useful habit in his present calling.

  'Where is he?' asked the man.

  Slyme looked into the room for an instant and gave his head a jerk asmuch as to say, 'Close at hand. I see him.'

  'He's booked,' observed the man.

  'Through,' said Slyme.

  They looked at each other, and up and down the street. The man onthe coach-steps took his hat off, and put it on again, and whistled alittle.

  'I say! He's taking his time!' he remonstrated.

  'I allowed him five minutes,' said Slyme. 'Time's more than up, though.I'll bring him down.'

  He withdrew from the window accordingly, and walked on tiptoe to thedoor in the partition. He listened. There was not a sound within. He setthe candles near it, that they might shine through the glass.

  It was not easy, he found, to make up his mind to the opening ofthe door. But he flung it wide open suddenly, and with a noise; thenretreated. After peeping in and listening again, he entered.

  He started back as his eyes met those of Jonas, standing in an angle ofthe wall, and staring at him. His neckerchief was off; his face was ashypale.

  'You're too soon,' said Jonas, with an abject whimper. 'I've not hadtime. I have not been able to do it. I--five minutes more--two minutesmore!--only one!'

  Slyme gave him no reply, but thrusting the purse upon him and forcing itback into his pocket, called up his men.

  He whined, and cried, and cursed, and entreated them, and struggled, andsubmitted, in the same breath, and had no power to stand. They got himaway and into the coach, where they put him on a seat; but he soon fellmoaning down among the straw at the bottom, and lay there.

  The two men were with him. Slyme being on the box with the driver; andthey let him lie. Happening to pass a fruiterer's on their way; the doorof which was open, though the shop was by this time shut; one of themremarked how faint the peaches smelled.

  The other assented at the moment, but presently stooped down in quickalarm, and looked at the prisoner.

  'Stop the coach! He has poisoned himself! The smell comes from thisbottle in his hand!'

  The hand had shut upon it tight. With that rigidity of grasp with whichno living man, in the full strength and energy of life, can clutch aprize he has won.

  They dragged him out into the dark street; but jury, judge, and hangman,could have done no more, and could do nothing now. Dead, dead, dead.