Chapter 59

The Old Curiosity Shop

by Charles Dickens

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.

'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!'