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"
"
Certainly
,
sir
!
Dear
me
,
sir
,
why
didn
’
t
you
send
your
young
man
round
for
me
?
Pray
walk
into
the
back
shop
,
sir
.
"
Snagsby
has
brightened
in
a
moment
.
The
confined
room
,
strong
of
parchment
-
grease
,
is
warehouse
,
counting
-
house
,
and
copying
-
office
.
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
sits
,
facing
round
,
on
a
stool
at
the
desk
.
"
Jarndyce
and
Jarndyce
,
Snagsby
.
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
turns
up
the
gas
and
coughs
behind
his
hand
,
modestly
anticipating
profit
.
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
as
a
timid
man
,
is
accustomed
to
cough
with
a
variety
of
expressions
,
and
so
to
save
words
.
"
You
copied
some
affidavits
in
that
cause
for
me
lately
.
"
"
Yes
,
sir
,
we
did
.
"
"
There
was
one
of
them
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
carelessly
feeling
—
tight
,
unopenable
oyster
of
the
old
school
!
—
in
the
wrong
coat
-
pocket
,
"
the
handwriting
of
which
is
peculiar
,
and
I
rather
like
.
As
I
happened
to
be
passing
,
and
thought
I
had
it
about
me
,
I
looked
in
to
ask
you
—
but
I
haven
’
t
got
it
.
No
matter
,
any
other
time
will
do
.
Ah
!
here
it
is
!
I
looked
in
to
ask
you
who
copied
this
.
"
"
Who
copied
this
,
sir
?
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
taking
it
,
laying
it
flat
on
the
desk
,
and
separating
all
the
sheets
at
once
with
a
twirl
and
a
twist
of
the
left
hand
peculiar
to
lawstationers
.
"
We
gave
this
out
,
sir
.
We
were
giving
out
rather
a
large
quantity
of
work
just
at
that
time
.
I
can
tell
you
in
a
moment
who
copied
it
,
sir
,
by
referring
to
my
book
.
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
takes
his
book
down
from
the
safe
,
makes
another
bolt
of
the
bit
of
bread
and
butter
which
seemed
to
have
stopped
short
,
eyes
the
affidavit
aside
,
and
brings
his
right
forefinger
travelling
down
a
page
of
the
book
,
"
Jewby
—
Packer
—
Jarndyce
.
"
"
Jarndyce
!
Here
we
are
,
sir
,
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
"
To
be
sure
!
I
might
have
remembered
it
.
This
was
given
out
,
sir
,
to
a
writer
who
lodges
just
over
on
the
opposite
side
of
the
lane
.
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
has
seen
the
entry
,
found
it
before
the
law
-
stationer
,
read
it
while
the
forefinger
was
coming
down
the
hill
.
"
WHAT
do
you
call
him
?
Nemo
?
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
Nemo
,
sir
.
Here
it
is
.
Forty
-
two
folio
.
Given
out
on
the
Wednesday
night
at
eight
o
’
clock
,
brought
in
on
the
Thursday
morning
at
half
after
nine
.
"
"
Nemo
!
"
repeats
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
Nemo
is
Latin
for
no
one
.
"
"
It
must
be
English
for
some
one
,
sir
,
I
think
,
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
submits
with
his
deferential
cough
.
"
It
is
a
person
’
s
name
.
Here
it
is
,
you
see
,
sir
!
Forty
-
two
folio
.
Given
out
Wednesday
night
,
eight
o
’
clock
;
brought
in
Thursday
morning
,
half
after
nine
.
"
The
tail
of
Mr
.
Snagsby
’
s
eye
becomes
conscious
of
the
head
of
Mrs
.
Snagsby
looking
in
at
the
shop
-
door
to
know
what
he
means
by
deserting
his
tea
.
Mr
.
Snagsby
addresses
an
explanatory
cough
to
Mrs
.
Snagsby
,
as
who
should
say
,
"
My
dear
,
a
customer
!
"
"
Half
after
nine
,
sir
,
"
repeats
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
"
Our
law
-
writers
,
who
live
by
job
-
work
,
are
a
queer
lot
;
and
this
may
not
be
his
name
,
but
it
’
s
the
name
he
goes
by
.
I
remember
now
,
sir
,
that
he
gives
it
in
a
written
advertisement
he
sticks
up
down
at
the
Rule
Office
,
and
the
King
’
s
Bench
Office
,
and
the
Judges
’
Chambers
,
and
so
forth
.
You
know
the
kind
of
document
,
sir
—
wanting
employ
?
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
glances
through
the
little
window
at
the
back
of
Coavinses
’
,
the
sheriff
’
s
officer
’
s
,
where
lights
shine
in
Coavinses
’
windows
.
Coavinses
’
coffee
-
room
is
at
the
back
,
and
the
shadows
of
several
gentlemen
under
a
cloud
loom
cloudily
upon
the
blinds
.
Mr
.
Snagsby
takes
the
opportunity
of
slightly
turning
his
head
to
glance
over
his
shoulder
at
his
little
woman
and
to
make
apologetic
motions
with
his
mouth
to
this
effect
:
"
Tul
-
king
-
horn
—
rich
—
in
-
flu
-
en
-
tial
!
"
"
Have
you
given
this
man
work
before
?
"
asks
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
Oh
,
dear
,
yes
,
sir
!
Work
of
yours
.
"
"
Thinking
of
more
important
matters
,
I
forget
where
you
said
he
lived
?
"
"
Across
the
lane
,
sir
.
In
fact
,
he
lodges
at
a
—
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
makes
another
bolt
,
as
if
the
bit
of
bread
and
butter
were
insurmountable
"
—
at
a
rag
and
bottle
shop
.
"
"
Can
you
show
me
the
place
as
I
go
back
?
"
"
With
the
greatest
pleasure
,
sir
!
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
pulls
off
his
sleeves
and
his
grey
coat
,
pulls
on
his
black
coat
,
takes
his
hat
from
its
peg
.
"
Oh
!
Here
is
my
little
woman
!
"
he
says
aloud
.
"
My
dear
,
will
you
be
so
kind
as
to
tell
one
of
the
lads
to
look
after
the
shop
while
I
step
across
the
lane
with
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
?
Mrs
.
Snagsby
,
sir
—
I
shan
’
t
be
two
minutes
,
my
love
!
"
Mrs
.
Snagsby
bends
to
the
lawyer
,
retires
behind
the
counter
,
peeps
at
them
through
the
window
-
blind
,
goes
softly
into
the
back
office
,
refers
to
the
entries
in
the
book
still
lying
open
.
Is
evidently
curious
.
"
You
will
find
that
the
place
is
rough
,
sir
,
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
walking
deferentially
in
the
road
and
leaving
the
narrow
pavement
to
the
lawyer
;
"
and
the
party
is
very
rough
.
But
they
’
re
a
wild
lot
in
general
,
sir
.
The
advantage
of
this
particular
man
is
that
he
never
wants
sleep
.
He
’
ll
go
at
it
right
on
end
if
you
want
him
to
,
as
long
as
ever
you
like
.
"
It
is
quite
dark
now
,
and
the
gas
-
lamps
have
acquired
their
full
effect
.
Jostling
against
clerks
going
to
post
the
day
’
s
letters
,
and
against
counsel
and
attorneys
going
home
to
dinner
,
and
against
plaintiffs
and
defendants
and
suitors
of
all
sorts
,
and
against
the
general
crowd
,
in
whose
way
the
forensic
wisdom
of
ages
has
interposed
a
million
of
obstacles
to
the
transaction
of
the
commonest
business
of
life
;
diving
through
law
and
equity
,
and
through
that
kindred
mystery
,
the
street
mud
,
which
is
made
of
nobody
knows
what
and
collects
about
us
nobody
knows
whence
or
how
—
we
only
knowing
in
general
that
when
there
is
too
much
of
it
we
find
it
necessary
to
shovel
it
away
—
the
lawyer
and
the
law
-
stationer
come
to
a
rag
and
bottle
shop
and
general
emporium
of
much
disregarded
merchandise
,
lying
and
being
in
the
shadow
of
the
wall
of
Lincoln
’
s
Inn
,
and
kept
,
as
is
announced
in
paint
,
to
all
whom
it
may
concern
,
by
one
Krook
.
"
This
is
where
he
lives
,
sir
,
"
says
the
law
-
stationer
.
"
This
is
where
he
lives
,
is
it
?
"
says
the
lawyer
unconcernedly
.
"
Thank
you
.
"
"
Are
you
not
going
in
,
sir
?
"
"
No
,
thank
you
,
no
;
I
am
going
on
to
the
Fields
at
present
.
Good
evening
.
Thank
you
!
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
lifts
his
hat
and
returns
to
his
little
woman
and
his
tea
.
But
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
does
not
go
on
to
the
Fields
at
present
.
He
goes
a
short
way
,
turns
back
,
comes
again
to
the
shop
of
Mr
.
Krook
,
and
enters
it
straight
.
It
is
dim
enough
,
with
a
blot
-
headed
candle
or
so
in
the
windows
,
and
an
old
man
and
a
cat
sitting
in
the
back
part
by
a
fire
.
The
old
man
rises
and
comes
forward
,
with
another
blot
-
headed
candle
in
his
hand
.
"
Pray
is
your
lodger
within
?
"
"
Male
or
female
,
sir
?
"
says
Mr
.
Krook
.
"
Male
.
The
person
who
does
copying
.
"
Mr
.
Krook
has
eyed
his
man
narrowly
.
Knows
him
by
sight
.
Has
an
indistinct
impression
of
his
aristocratic
repute
.
"
Did
you
wish
to
see
him
,
sir
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
It
’
s
what
I
seldom
do
myself
,
"
says
Mr
.
Krook
with
a
grin
.
"
Shall
I
call
him
down
?
But
it
’
s
a
weak
chance
if
he
’
d
come
,
sir
!
"
"
I
’
ll
go
up
to
him
,
then
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
Second
floor
,
sir
.
Take
the
candle
.
Up
there
!
"
Mr
.
Krook
,
with
his
cat
beside
him
,
stands
at
the
bottom
of
the
staircase
,
looking
after
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
Hi
-
hi
!
"
he
says
when
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
has
nearly
disappeared
.
The
lawyer
looks
down
over
the
hand
-
rail
.
The
cat
expands
her
wicked
mouth
and
snarls
at
him
.
"
Order
,
Lady
Jane
!
Behave
yourself
to
visitors
,
my
lady
!
You
know
what
they
say
of
my
lodger
?
"
whispers
Krook
,
going
up
a
step
or
two
.
"
What
do
they
say
of
him
?
"
"
They
say
he
has
sold
himself
to
the
enemy
,
but
you
and
I
know
better
—
he
don
’
t
buy
.
I
’
ll
tell
you
what
,
though
;
my
lodger
is
so
black
-
humoured
and
gloomy
that
I
believe
he
’
d
as
soon
make
that
bargain
as
any
other
.
Don
’
t
put
him
out
,
sir
.
That
’
s
my
advice
!
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
with
a
nod
goes
on
his
way
.
He
comes
to
the
dark
door
on
the
second
floor
.
He
knocks
,
receives
no
answer
,
opens
it
,
and
accidentally
extinguishes
his
candle
in
doing
so
.
The
air
of
the
room
is
almost
bad
enough
to
have
extinguished
it
if
he
had
not
.
It
is
a
small
room
,
nearly
black
with
soot
,
and
grease
,
and
dirt
.
In
the
rusty
skeleton
of
a
grate
,
pinched
at
the
middle
as
if
poverty
had
gripped
it
,
a
red
coke
fire
burns
low
.
In
the
corner
by
the
chimney
stand
a
deal
table
and
a
broken
desk
,
a
wilderness
marked
with
a
rain
of
ink
.
In
another
corner
a
ragged
old
portmanteau
on
one
of
the
two
chairs
serves
for
cabinet
or
wardrobe
;
no
larger
one
is
needed
,
for
it
collapses
like
the
cheeks
of
a
starved
man
.
The
floor
is
bare
,
except
that
one
old
mat
,
trodden
to
shreds
of
rope
-
yarn
,
lies
perishing
upon
the
hearth
.
No
curtain
veils
the
darkness
of
the
night
,
but
the
discoloured
shutters
are
drawn
together
,
and
through
the
two
gaunt
holes
pierced
in
them
,
famine
might
be
staring
in
—
the
banshee
of
the
man
upon
the
bed
.
For
,
on
a
low
bed
opposite
the
fire
,
a
confusion
of
dirty
patchwork
,
lean
-
ribbed
ticking
,
and
coarse
sacking
,
the
lawyer
,
hesitating
just
within
the
doorway
,
sees
a
man
.
He
lies
there
,
dressed
in
shirt
and
trousers
,
with
bare
feet
.
He
has
a
yellow
look
in
the
spectral
darkness
of
a
candle
that
has
guttered
down
until
the
whole
length
of
its
wick
(
still
burning
)
has
doubled
over
and
left
a
tower
of
winding
-
sheet
above
it
.
His
hair
is
ragged
,
mingling
with
his
whiskers
and
his
beard
—
the
latter
,
ragged
too
,
and
grown
,
like
the
scum
and
mist
around
him
,
in
neglect
.
Foul
and
filthy
as
the
room
is
,
foul
and
filthy
as
the
air
is
,
it
is
not
easy
to
perceive
what
fumes
those
are
which
most
oppress
the
senses
in
it
;
but
through
the
general
sickliness
and
faintness
,
and
the
odour
of
stale
tobacco
,
there
comes
into
the
lawyer
’
s
mouth
the
bitter
,
vapid
taste
of
opium
"
Hallo
,
my
friend
!
"
he
cries
,
and
strikes
his
iron
candlestick
against
the
door
.
He
thinks
he
has
awakened
his
friend
.
He
lies
a
little
turned
away
,
but
his
eyes
are
surely
open
.
"
Hallo
,
my
friend
!
"
he
cries
again
.
"
Hallo
!
Hallo
!
"
As
he
rattles
on
the
door
,
the
candle
which
has
drooped
so
long
goes
out
and
leaves
him
in
the
dark
,
with
the
gaunt
eyes
in
the
shutters
staring
down
upon
the
bed
.
A
touch
on
the
lawyer
’
s
wrinkled
hand
as
he
stands
in
the
dark
room
,
irresolute
,
makes
him
start
and
say
,
"
What
’
s
that
?
"
"
It
’
s
me
,
"
returns
the
old
man
of
the
house
,
whose
breath
is
in
his
ear
.
"
Can
’
t
you
wake
him
?
"
"
No
.
"
"
What
have
you
done
with
your
candle
?
"
"
It
’
s
gone
out
.
Here
it
is
.
"
Krook
takes
it
,
goes
to
the
fire
,
stoops
over
the
red
embers
,
and
tries
to
get
a
light
.
The
dying
ashes
have
no
light
to
spare
,
and
his
endeavours
are
vain
.
Muttering
,
after
an
ineffectual
call
to
his
lodger
,
that
he
will
go
downstairs
and
bring
a
lighted
candle
from
the
shop
,
the
old
man
departs
.
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
for
some
new
reason
that
he
has
,
does
not
await
his
return
in
the
room
,
but
on
the
stairs
outside
.
The
welcome
light
soon
shines
upon
the
wall
,
as
Krook
comes
slowly
up
with
his
green
-
eyed
cat
following
at
his
heels
.
"
Does
the
man
generally
sleep
like
this
?
"
inquired
the
lawyer
in
a
low
voice
.
"
Hi
!
I
don
’
t
know
,
"
says
Krook
,
shaking
his
head
and
lifting
his
eyebrows
.
"
I
know
next
to
nothing
of
his
habits
except
that
he
keeps
himself
very
close
.
"
Thus
whispering
,
they
both
go
in
together
.
As
the
light
goes
in
,
the
great
eyes
in
the
shutters
,
darkening
,
seem
to
close
.
Not
so
the
eyes
upon
the
bed
.
"
God
save
us
!
"
exclaims
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
He
is
dead
!
"
Krook
drops
the
heavy
hand
he
has
taken
up
so
suddenly
that
the
arm
swings
over
the
bedside
.
They
look
at
one
another
for
a
moment
.
"
Send
for
some
doctor
!
Call
for
Miss
Flite
up
the
stairs
,
sir
.
Here
’
s
poison
by
the
bed
!
Call
out
for
Flite
,
will
you
?
"
says
Krook
,
with
his
lean
hands
spread
out
above
the
body
like
a
vampire
’
s
wings
.
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
hurries
to
the
landing
and
calls
,
"
Miss
Flite
!
Flite
!
Make
haste
,
here
,
whoever
you
are
!
Flite
!
"
Krook
follows
him
with
his
eyes
,
and
while
he
is
calling
,
finds
opportunity
to
steal
to
the
old
portmanteau
and
steal
back
again
.
"
Run
,
Flite
,
run
!
The
nearest
doctor
!
Run
!
"
So
Mr
.
Krook
addresses
a
crazy
little
woman
who
is
his
female
lodger
,
who
appears
and
vanishes
in
a
breath
,
who
soon
returns
accompanied
by
a
testy
medical
man
brought
from
his
dinner
,
with
a
broad
,
snuffy
upper
lip
and
a
broad
Scotch
tongue
.
"
Ey
!
Bless
the
hearts
o
’
ye
,
"
says
the
medical
man
,
looking
up
at
them
after
a
moment
’
s
examination
.
"
He
’
s
just
as
dead
as
Phairy
!
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
(
standing
by
the
old
portmanteau
)
inquires
if
he
has
been
dead
any
time
.
"
Any
time
,
sir
?
"
says
the
medical
gentleman
.
"
It
’
s
probable
he
wull
have
been
dead
aboot
three
hours
.
"
"
About
that
time
,
I
should
say
,
"
observes
a
dark
young
man
on
the
other
side
of
the
bed
.
"
Air
you
in
the
maydickle
prayfession
yourself
,
sir
?
"
inquires
the
first
.
The
dark
young
man
says
yes
.
"
Then
I
’
ll
just
tak
’
my
depairture
,
"
replies
the
other
,
"
for
I
’
m
nae
gude
here
!
"
With
which
remark
he
finishes
his
brief
attendance
and
returns
to
finish
his
dinner
.
The
dark
young
surgeon
passes
the
candle
across
and
across
the
face
and
carefully
examines
the
law
-
writer
,
who
has
established
his
pretensions
to
his
name
by
becoming
indeed
No
one
.
"
I
knew
this
person
by
sight
very
well
,
"
says
he
.
"
He
has
purchased
opium
of
me
for
the
last
year
and
a
half
.
Was
anybody
present
related
to
him
?
"
glancing
round
upon
the
three
bystanders
.
"
I
was
his
landlord
,
"
grimly
answers
Krook
,
taking
the
candle
from
the
surgeon
’
s
outstretched
hand
.
"
He
told
me
once
I
was
the
nearest
relation
he
had
.
"
"
He
has
died
,
"
says
the
surgeon
,
"
of
an
over
-
dose
of
opium
,
there
is
no
doubt
.
The
room
is
strongly
flavoured
with
it
.
There
is
enough
here
now
,
"
taking
an
old
tea
-
pot
from
Mr
.
Krook
,
"
to
kill
a
dozen
people
.
"
"
Do
you
think
he
did
it
on
purpose
?
"
asks
Krook
.
"
Took
the
over
-
dose
?
"
"
Yes
!
"
Krook
almost
smacks
his
lips
with
the
unction
of
a
horrible
interest
.
"
I
can
’
t
say
.
I
should
think
it
unlikely
,
as
he
has
been
in
the
habit
of
taking
so
much
.
But
nobody
can
tell
.
He
was
very
poor
,
I
suppose
?
"
"
I
suppose
he
was
.
His
room
—
don
’
t
look
rich
,
"
says
Krook
,
who
might
have
changed
eyes
with
his
cat
,
as
he
casts
his
sharp
glance
around
.
"
But
I
have
never
been
in
it
since
he
had
it
,
and
he
was
too
close
to
name
his
circumstances
to
me
.
"
"
Did
he
owe
you
any
rent
?
"
"
Six
weeks
.
"
"
He
will
never
pay
it
!
"
says
the
young
man
,
resuming
his
examination
.
"
It
is
beyond
a
doubt
that
he
is
indeed
as
dead
as
Pharaoh
;
and
to
judge
from
his
appearance
and
condition
,
I
should
think
it
a
happy
release
.
Yet
he
must
have
been
a
good
figure
when
a
youth
,
and
I
dare
say
,
good
-
looking
.
"
He
says
this
,
not
unfeelingly
,
while
sitting
on
the
bedstead
’
s
edge
with
his
face
towards
that
other
face
and
his
hand
upon
the
region
of
the
heart
.
"
I
recollect
once
thinking
there
was
something
in
his
manner
,
uncouth
as
it
was
,
that
denoted
a
fall
in
life
.
Was
that
so
?
"
he
continues
,
looking
round
.
