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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Weevle
,
by
stirring
the
fire
suddenly
,
makes
Mr
.
Guppy
start
as
if
his
heart
had
been
stirred
instead
.
"
Fah
!
Here
’
s
more
of
this
hateful
soot
hanging
about
,
"
says
he
.
"
Let
us
open
the
window
a
bit
and
get
a
mouthful
of
air
.
It
’
s
too
close
.
"
He
raises
the
sash
,
and
they
both
rest
on
the
window
-
sill
,
half
in
and
half
out
of
the
room
.
The
neighbouring
houses
are
too
near
to
admit
of
their
seeing
any
sky
without
craning
their
necks
and
looking
up
,
but
lights
in
frowsy
windows
here
and
there
,
and
the
rolling
of
distant
carriages
,
and
the
new
expression
that
there
is
of
the
stir
of
men
,
they
find
to
be
comfortable
.
Mr
.
Guppy
,
noiselessly
tapping
on
the
window
-
sill
,
resumes
his
whispering
in
quite
a
light
-
comedy
tone
.
"
By
the
by
,
Tony
,
don
’
t
forget
old
Smallweed
,
"
meaning
the
younger
of
that
name
.
"
I
have
not
let
him
into
this
,
you
know
.
That
grandfather
of
his
is
too
keen
by
half
.
It
runs
in
the
family
.
"
"
I
remember
,
"
says
Tony
.
"
I
am
up
to
all
that
.
"
"
And
as
to
Krook
,
"
resumes
Mr
.
Guppy
.
"
Now
,
do
you
suppose
he
really
has
got
hold
of
any
other
papers
of
importance
,
as
he
has
boasted
to
you
,
since
you
have
been
such
allies
?
"
Tony
shakes
his
head
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
Can
’
t
Imagine
.
If
we
get
through
this
business
without
rousing
his
suspicions
,
I
shall
be
better
informed
,
no
doubt
.
How
can
I
know
without
seeing
them
,
when
he
don
’
t
know
himself
?
He
is
always
spelling
out
words
from
them
,
and
chalking
them
over
the
table
and
the
shop
-
wall
,
and
asking
what
this
is
and
what
that
is
;
but
his
whole
stock
from
beginning
to
end
may
easily
be
the
waste
-
paper
he
bought
it
as
,
for
anything
I
can
say
.
It
’
s
a
monomania
with
him
to
think
he
is
possessed
of
documents
.
He
has
been
going
to
learn
to
read
them
this
last
quarter
of
a
century
,
I
should
judge
,
from
what
he
tells
me
.
"
"
How
did
he
first
come
by
that
idea
,
though
?
That
’
s
the
question
,
"
Mr
.
Guppy
suggests
with
one
eye
shut
,
after
a
little
forensic
meditation
.
"
He
may
have
found
papers
in
something
he
bought
,
where
papers
were
not
supposed
to
be
,
and
may
have
got
it
into
his
shrewd
head
from
the
manner
and
place
of
their
concealment
that
they
are
worth
something
.
"
"
Or
he
may
have
been
taken
in
,
in
some
pretended
bargain
.
Or
he
may
have
been
muddled
altogether
by
long
staring
at
whatever
he
HAS
got
,
and
by
drink
,
and
by
hanging
about
the
Lord
Chancellor
’
s
Court
and
hearing
of
documents
for
ever
,
"
returns
Mr
.
Weevle
.
Mr
.
Guppy
sitting
on
the
window
-
sill
,
nodding
his
head
and
balancing
all
these
possibilities
in
his
mind
,
continues
thoughtfully
to
tap
it
,
and
clasp
it
,
and
measure
it
with
his
hand
,
until
he
hastily
draws
his
hand
away
.
"
What
,
in
the
devil
’
s
name
,
"
he
says
,
"
is
this
!
Look
at
my
fingers
!
"
A
thick
,
yellow
liquor
defiles
them
,
which
is
offensive
to
the
touch
and
sight
and
more
offensive
to
the
smell
.
A
stagnant
,
sickening
oil
with
some
natural
repulsion
in
it
that
makes
them
both
shudder
.
"
What
have
you
been
doing
here
?
What
have
you
been
pouring
out
of
window
?
"
"
I
pouring
out
of
window
!
Nothing
,
I
swear
!
Never
,
since
I
have
been
here
!
"
cries
the
lodger
.
And
yet
look
here
—
and
look
here
!
When
he
brings
the
candle
here
,
from
the
corner
of
the
window
-
sill
,
it
slowly
drips
and
creeps
away
down
the
bricks
,
here
lies
in
a
little
thick
nauseous
pool
.
"
This
is
a
horrible
house
,
"
says
Mr
.
Guppy
,
shutting
down
the
window
.
"
Give
me
some
water
or
I
shall
cut
my
hand
off
.
"
He
so
washes
,
and
rubs
,
and
scrubs
,
and
smells
,
and
washes
,
that
he
has
not
long
restored
himself
with
a
glass
of
brandy
and
stood
silently
before
the
fire
when
Saint
Paul
’
s
bell
strikes
twelve
and
all
those
other
bells
strike
twelve
from
their
towers
of
various
heights
in
the
dark
air
,
and
in
their
many
tones
.
When
all
is
quiet
again
,
the
lodger
says
,
"
It
’
s
the
appointed
time
at
last
.
Shall
I
go
?
"
Mr
.
Guppy
nods
and
gives
him
a
"
lucky
touch
"
on
the
back
,
but
not
with
the
washed
hand
,
though
it
is
his
right
hand
.
He
goes
downstairs
,
and
Mr
.
Guppy
tries
to
compose
himself
before
the
fire
for
waiting
a
long
time
.
But
in
no
more
than
a
minute
or
two
the
stairs
creak
and
Tony
comes
swiftly
back
.
"
Have
you
got
them
?
"
"
Got
them
!
No
.
The
old
man
’
s
not
there
.
"
He
has
been
so
horribly
frightened
in
the
short
interval
that
his
terror
seizes
the
other
,
who
makes
a
rush
at
him
and
asks
loudly
,
"
What
’
s
the
matter
?
"
"
I
couldn
’
t
make
him
hear
,
and
I
softly
opened
the
door
and
looked
in
.
And
the
burning
smell
is
there
—
and
the
soot
is
there
,
and
the
oil
is
there
—
and
he
is
not
there
!
"
Tony
ends
this
with
a
groan
.
Mr
.
Guppy
takes
the
light
.
They
go
down
,
more
dead
than
alive
,
and
holding
one
another
,
push
open
the
door
of
the
back
shop
.
The
cat
has
retreated
close
to
it
and
stands
snarling
,
not
at
them
,
at
something
on
the
ground
before
the
fire
.
There
is
a
very
little
fire
left
in
the
grate
,
but
there
is
a
smouldering
,
suffocating
vapour
in
the
room
and
a
dark
,
greasy
coating
on
the
walls
and
ceiling
.
The
chairs
and
table
,
and
the
bottle
so
rarely
absent
from
the
table
,
all
stand
as
usual
.
On
one
chair
-
back
hang
the
old
man
’
s
hairy
cap
and
coat
.
"
Look
!
"
whispers
the
lodger
,
pointing
his
friend
’
s
attention
to
these
objects
with
a
trembling
finger
.
"
I
told
you
so
.
When
I
saw
him
last
,
he
took
his
cap
off
,
took
out
the
little
bundle
of
old
letters
,
hung
his
cap
on
the
back
of
the
chair
—
his
coat
was
there
already
,
for
he
had
pulled
that
off
before
he
went
to
put
the
shutters
up
—
and
I
left
him
turning
the
letters
over
in
his
hand
,
standing
just
where
that
crumbled
black
thing
is
upon
the
floor
.
"
Is
he
hanging
somewhere
?
They
look
up
.
No
.
"
See
!
"
whispers
Tony
.
"
At
the
foot
of
the
same
chair
there
lies
a
dirty
bit
of
thin
red
cord
that
they
tie
up
pens
with
.
That
went
round
the
letters
.
He
undid
it
slowly
,
leering
and
laughing
at
me
,
before
he
began
to
turn
them
over
,
and
threw
it
there
.
I
saw
it
fall
.
"
"
What
’
s
the
matter
with
the
cat
?
"
says
Mr
.
Guppy
.
"
Look
at
her
!
"
"
Mad
,
I
think
.
And
no
wonder
in
this
evil
place
.
"
They
advance
slowly
,
looking
at
all
these
things
.
The
cat
remains
where
they
found
her
,
still
snarling
at
the
something
on
the
ground
before
the
fire
and
between
the
two
chairs
.
What
is
it
?
Hold
up
the
light
Here
is
a
small
burnt
patch
of
flooring
;
here
is
the
tinder
from
a
little
bundle
of
burnt
paper
,
but
not
so
light
as
usual
,
seeming
to
be
steeped
in
something
;
and
here
is
—
is
it
the
cinder
of
a
small
charred
and
broken
log
of
wood
sprinkled
with
white
ashes
,
or
is
it
coal
?
Oh
,
horror
,
he
IS
here
!
And
this
from
which
we
run
away
,
striking
out
the
light
and
overturning
one
another
into
the
street
,
is
all
that
represents
him
.
Help
,
help
,
help
!
Come
into
this
house
for
heaven
’
s
sake
!
Plenty
will
come
in
,
but
none
can
help
.
The
Lord
Chancellor
of
that
court
,
true
to
his
title
in
his
last
act
,
has
died
the
death
of
all
lord
chancellors
in
all
courts
and
of
all
authorities
in
all
places
under
all
names
soever
,
where
false
pretences
are
made
,
and
where
injustice
is
done
.
Call
the
death
by
any
name
your
Highness
will
,
attribute
it
to
whom
you
will
,
or
say
it
might
have
been
prevented
how
you
will
,
it
is
the
same
death
eternally
—
inborn
,
inbred
,
engendered
in
the
corrupted
humours
of
the
vicious
body
itself
,
and
that
only
—
spontaneous
combustion
,
and
none
other
of
all
the
deaths
that
can
be
died
.
Now
do
those
two
gentlemen
not
very
neat
about
the
cuffs
and
buttons
who
attended
the
last
coroner
’
s
inquest
at
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
reappear
in
the
precincts
with
surprising
swiftness
(
being
,
in
fact
,
breathlessly
fetched
by
the
active
and
intelligent
beadle
)
,
and
institute
perquisitions
through
the
court
,
and
dive
into
the
Sol
’
s
parlour
,
and
write
with
ravenous
little
pens
on
tissue
-
paper
.
Now
do
they
note
down
,
in
the
watches
of
the
night
,
how
the
neighbourhood
of
Chancery
Lane
was
yesterday
,
at
about
midnight
,
thrown
into
a
state
of
the
most
intense
agitation
and
excitement
by
the
following
alarming
and
horrible
discovery
.
Now
do
they
set
forth
how
it
will
doubtless
be
remembered
that
some
time
back
a
painful
sensation
was
created
in
the
public
mind
by
a
case
of
mysterious
death
from
opium
occurring
in
the
first
floor
of
the
house
occupied
as
a
rag
,
bottle
,
and
general
marine
store
shop
,
by
an
eccentric
individual
of
intemperate
habits
,
far
advanced
in
life
,
named
Krook
;
and
how
,
by
a
remarkable
coincidence
,
Krook
was
examined
at
the
inquest
,
which
it
may
be
recollected
was
held
on
that
occasion
at
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
,
a
well
-
conducted
tavern
immediately
adjoining
the
premises
in
question
on
the
west
side
and
licensed
to
a
highly
respectable
landlord
,
Mr
.
James
George
Bogsby
.
Now
do
they
show
(
in
as
many
words
as
possible
)
how
during
some
hours
of
yesterday
evening
a
very
peculiar
smell
was
observed
by
the
inhabitants
of
the
court
,
in
which
the
tragical
occurrence
which
forms
the
subject
of
that
present
account
transpired
;
and
which
odour
was
at
one
time
so
powerful
that
Mr
.
Swills
,
a
comic
vocalist
professionally
engaged
by
Mr
.
J
.
G
.
Bogsby
,
has
himself
stated
to
our
reporter
that
he
mentioned
to
Miss
M
.
Melvilleson
,
a
lady
of
some
pretensions
to
musical
ability
,
likewise
engaged
by
Mr
.
J
.
G
.
Bogsby
to
sing
at
a
series
of
concerts
called
Harmonic
Assemblies
,
or
Meetings
,
which
it
would
appear
are
held
at
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
under
Mr
.
Bogsby
’
s
direction
pursuant
to
the
Act
of
George
the
Second
,
that
he
(
Mr
.
Swills
)
found
his
voice
seriously
affected
by
the
impure
state
of
the
atmosphere
,
his
jocose
expression
at
the
time
being
that
he
was
like
an
empty
post
-
office
,
for
he
hadn
’
t
a
single
note
in
him
.
How
this
account
of
Mr
.
Swills
is
entirely
corroborated
by
two
intelligent
married
females
residing
in
the
same
court
and
known
respectively
by
the
names
of
Mrs
.
Piper
and
Mrs
.
Perkins
,
both
of
whom
observed
the
foetid
effluvia
and
regarded
them
as
being
emitted
from
the
premises
in
the
occupation
of
Krook
,
the
unfortunate
deceased
.
All
this
and
a
great
deal
more
the
two
gentlemen
who
have
formed
an
amicable
partnership
in
the
melancholy
catastrophe
write
down
on
the
spot
;
and
the
boy
population
of
the
court
(
out
of
bed
in
a
moment
)
swarm
up
the
shutters
of
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
parlour
,
to
behold
the
tops
of
their
heads
while
they
are
about
it
.
The
whole
court
,
adult
as
well
as
boy
,
is
sleepless
for
that
night
,
and
can
do
nothing
but
wrap
up
its
many
heads
,
and
talk
of
the
ill
-
fated
house
,
and
look
at
it
.
Miss
Flite
has
been
bravely
rescued
from
her
chamber
,
as
if
it
were
in
flames
,
and
accommodated
with
a
bed
at
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
.
The
Sol
neither
turns
off
its
gas
nor
shuts
its
door
all
night
,
for
any
kind
of
public
excitement
makes
good
for
the
Sol
and
causes
the
court
to
stand
in
need
of
comfort
.
The
house
has
not
done
so
much
in
the
stomachic
article
of
cloves
or
in
brandy
-
and
-
water
warm
since
the
inquest
.
The
moment
the
pot
-
boy
heard
what
had
happened
,
he
rolled
up
his
shirt
-
sleeves
tight
to
his
shoulders
and
said
,
"
There
’
ll
be
a
run
upon
us
!
"
In
the
first
outcry
,
young
Piper
dashed
off
for
the
fire
-
engines
and
returned
in
triumph
at
a
jolting
gallop
perched
up
aloft
on
the
Phoenix
and
holding
on
to
that
fabulous
creature
with
all
his
might
in
the
midst
of
helmets
and
torches
.
One
helmet
remains
behind
after
careful
investigation
of
all
chinks
and
crannies
and
slowly
paces
up
and
down
before
the
house
in
company
with
one
of
the
two
policemen
who
have
likewise
been
left
in
charge
thereof
.
To
this
trio
everybody
in
the
court
possessed
of
sixpence
has
an
insatiate
desire
to
exhibit
hospitality
in
a
liquid
form
.
Mr
.
Weevle
and
his
friend
Mr
.
Guppy
are
within
the
bar
at
the
Sol
and
are
worth
anything
to
the
Sol
that
the
bar
contains
if
they
will
only
stay
there
.
"
This
is
not
a
time
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bogsby
,
"
to
haggle
about
money
,
"
though
he
looks
something
sharply
after
it
,
over
the
counter
;
"
give
your
orders
,
you
two
gentlemen
,
and
you
’
re
welcome
to
whatever
you
put
a
name
to
.
"
Thus
entreated
,
the
two
gentlemen
(
Mr
.
Weevle
especially
)
put
names
to
so
many
things
that
in
course
of
time
they
find
it
difficult
to
put
a
name
to
anything
quite
distinctly
,
though
they
still
relate
to
all
new
-
comers
some
version
of
the
night
they
have
had
of
it
,
and
of
what
they
said
,
and
what
they
thought
,
and
what
they
saw
.
Meanwhile
,
one
or
other
of
the
policemen
often
flits
about
the
door
,
and
pushing
it
open
a
little
way
at
the
full
length
of
his
arm
,
looks
in
from
outer
gloom
.
Not
that
he
has
any
suspicions
,
but
that
he
may
as
well
know
what
they
are
up
to
in
there
.
Thus
night
pursues
its
leaden
course
,
finding
the
court
still
out
of
bed
through
the
unwonted
hours
,
still
treating
and
being
treated
,
still
conducting
itself
similarly
to
a
court
that
has
had
a
little
money
left
it
unexpectedly
.
Thus
night
at
length
with
slow
-
retreating
steps
departs
,
and
the
lamp
-
lighter
going
his
rounds
,
like
an
executioner
to
a
despotic
king
,
strikes
off
the
little
heads
of
fire
that
have
aspired
to
lessen
the
darkness
.
Thus
the
day
cometh
,
whether
or
no
.
And
the
day
may
discern
,
even
with
its
dim
London
eye
,
that
the
court
has
been
up
all
night
.
Over
and
above
the
faces
that
have
fallen
drowsily
on
tables
and
the
heels
that
lie
prone
on
hard
floors
instead
of
beds
,
the
brick
and
mortar
physiognomy
of
the
very
court
itself
looks
worn
and
jaded
.
And
now
the
neighbourhood
,
waking
up
and
beginning
to
hear
of
what
has
happened
,
comes
streaming
in
,
half
dressed
,
to
ask
questions
;
and
the
two
policemen
and
the
helmet
(
who
are
far
less
impressible
externally
than
the
court
)
have
enough
to
do
to
keep
the
door
.
"
Good
gracious
,
gentlemen
!
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
coming
up
.
"
What
’
s
this
I
hear
!
"
"
Why
,
it
’
s
true
,
"
returns
one
of
the
policemen
.
"
That
’
s
what
it
is
.
Now
move
on
here
,
come
!
"
"
Why
,
good
gracious
,
gentlemen
,
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
somewhat
promptly
backed
away
,
"
I
was
at
this
door
last
night
betwixt
ten
and
eleven
o
’
clock
in
conversation
with
the
young
man
who
lodges
here
.
"
"
Indeed
?
"
returns
the
policeman
.
"
You
will
find
the
young
man
next
door
then
.
Now
move
on
here
,
some
of
you
.
"
"
Not
hurt
,
I
hope
?
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
"
Hurt
?
No
.
What
’
s
to
hurt
him
!
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
wholly
unable
to
answer
this
or
any
question
in
his
troubled
mind
,
repairs
to
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
and
finds
Mr
.
Weevle
languishing
over
tea
and
toast
with
a
considerable
expression
on
him
of
exhausted
excitement
and
exhausted
tobacco
-
smoke
.
"
And
Mr
.
Guppy
likewise
!
"
quoth
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
"
Dear
,
dear
,
dear
!
What
a
fate
there
seems
in
all
this
!
And
my
lit
—
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
’
s
power
of
speech
deserts
him
in
the
formation
of
the
words
"
my
little
woman
.
"
For
to
see
that
injured
female
walk
into
the
Sol
’
s
Arms
at
that
hour
of
the
morning
and
stand
before
the
beer
-
engine
,
with
her
eyes
fixed
upon
him
like
an
accusing
spirit
,
strikes
him
dumb
.
"
My
dear
,
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
when
his
tongue
is
loosened
,
"
will
you
take
anything
?
A
little
—
not
to
put
too
fine
a
point
upon
it
—
drop
of
shrub
?
"
"
No
,
"
says
Mrs
.
Snagsby
.
"
My
love
,
you
know
these
two
gentlemen
?
"
"
Yes
!
"
says
Mrs
.
Snagsby
,
and
in
a
rigid
manner
acknowledges
their
presence
,
still
fixing
Mr
.
Snagsby
with
her
eye
.
The
devoted
Mr
.
Snagsby
cannot
bear
this
treatment
.
He
takes
Mrs
.
Snagsby
by
the
hand
and
leads
her
aside
to
an
adjacent
cask
.
