‘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 for his darling mother! Let him have the Bethel minister to comfort and console him, Brass. Eh, Kit — eh? Drive on, coachey, drive on. Bye bye, Kit; all good go with you; keep up your spirits; my love to the Garlands — the dear old lady and gentleman. Say I inquired after ’em, will you? Blessings on ’em, on you, and on everybody, Kit. Blessings on all the world!’

With such good wishes and farewells, poured out in a rapid torrent until they were out of hearing, Quilp suffered them to depart; and when he could see the coach no longer, drew in his head, and rolled upon the ground in an ecstasy of enjoyment.

When they reached the Notary’s, which they were not long in doing, for they had encountered the dwarf in a bye street at a very little distance from the house, Mr Brass dismounted; and opening the coach- door with a melancholy visage, requested his sister to accompany him into the office, with the view of preparing the good people within for the mournful intelligence that awaited them. Miss Sally complying, he desired Mr Swiveller to accompany them. So, into the office they went; Mr Sampson and his sister arm-in-arm; and Mr Swiveller following, alone.

The Notary was standing before the fire in the outer office, talking to Mr Abel and the elder Mr Garland, while Mr Chuckster sat writing at the desk, picking up such crumbs of their conversation as happened to fall in his way. This posture of affairs Mr Brass observed through the glass-door as he was turning the handle, and seeing that the Notary recognised him, he began to shake his head and sigh deeply while that partition yet divided them.

‘Sir,’ said Sampson, taking off his hat, and kissing the two forefingers of his right-hand beaver glove, ‘my name is Brass — Brass of Bevis Marks, Sir. I have had the honour and pleasure, Sir, of being concerned against you in some little testamentary matters. How do you do, Sir?’

‘My clerk will attend to any business you may have come upon, Mr Brass,’ said the Notary, turning away.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Brass, ‘thank you, I am sure. Allow me, Sir, to introduce my sister — quite one of us, Sir, although of the weaker sex — of great use in my business, Sir, I assure you. Mr Richard, Sir, have the goodness to come foward if you please — No really,’ said Brass, stepping between the Notary and his private office (towards which he had begun to retreat), and speaking in the tone of an injured man, ‘really, Sir, I must, under favour, request a word or two with you, indeed.’

‘Mr Brass,’ said the other, in a decided tone, ‘I am engaged. You see that I am occupied with these gentlemen. If you will communicate your business to Mr Chuckster yonder, you will receive every attention.’

‘Gentlemen,’ said Brass, laying his right hand on his waistcoat, and looking towards the father and son with a smooth smile — ‘Gentlemen, I appeal to you — really, gentlemen — consider, I beg of you. I am of the law. I am styled “gentleman” by Act of Parliament. I maintain the title by the annual payment of twelve pound sterling for a certificate. I am not one of your players of music, stage actors, writers of books, or painters of pictures, who assume a station that the laws of their country don’t recognise. I am none of your strollers or vagabonds. If any man brings his action against me, he must describe me as