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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 353/859
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‘
My
name
’
s
Law
,
’
said
Mr
.
Grummer
.
‘
What
?
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
Law
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Grummer
—
‘
Law
,
civil
power
,
and
exekative
;
them
’
s
my
titles
;
here
’
s
my
authority
.
Blank
Tupman
,
blank
Pickwick
—
against
the
peace
of
our
sufferin
’
lord
the
king
—
stattit
in
the
case
made
and
purwided
—
and
all
regular
.
I
apprehend
you
Pickwick
!
Tupman
—
the
aforesaid
.
’
‘
What
do
you
mean
by
this
insolence
?
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
,
starting
up
;
‘
leave
the
room
!
’
‘
Hollo
,
’
said
Mr
.
Grummer
,
retreating
very
expeditiously
to
the
door
,
and
opening
it
an
inch
or
two
,
‘
Dubbley
.
’
‘
Well
,
’
said
a
deep
voice
from
the
passage
.
‘
Come
for
’
ard
,
Dubbley
.
’
At
the
word
of
command
,
a
dirty
-
faced
man
,
something
over
six
feet
high
,
and
stout
in
proportion
,
squeezed
himself
through
the
half
-
open
door
(
making
his
face
very
red
in
the
process
)
,
and
entered
the
room
.
‘
Is
the
other
specials
outside
,
Dubbley
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Grummer
.
