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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 509/859
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‘
I
rayther
suspect
it
was
my
father
,
my
lord
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
Do
you
see
him
here
now
?
’
said
the
judge
.
‘
No
,
I
don
’
t
,
my
Lord
,
’
replied
Sam
,
staring
right
up
into
the
lantern
at
the
roof
of
the
court
.
‘
If
you
could
have
pointed
him
out
,
I
would
have
committed
him
instantly
,
’
said
the
judge
.
Sam
bowed
his
acknowledgments
and
turned
,
with
unimpaired
cheerfulness
of
countenance
,
towards
Serjeant
Buzfuz
.
‘
Now
,
Mr
.
Weller
,
’
said
Serjeant
Buzfuz
.
‘
Now
,
sir
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
I
believe
you
are
in
the
service
of
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
the
defendant
in
this
case
?
Speak
up
,
if
you
please
,
Mr
.
Weller
.
’
‘
I
mean
to
speak
up
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Sam
;
‘
I
am
in
the
service
o
’
that
‘
ere
gen
’
l
’
man
,
and
a
wery
good
service
it
is
.
’
‘
Little
to
do
,
and
plenty
to
get
,
I
suppose
?
’
said
Serjeant
Buzfuz
,
with
jocularity
.
‘
Oh
,
quite
enough
to
get
,
Sir
,
as
the
soldier
said
ven
they
ordered
him
three
hundred
and
fifty
lashes
,
’
replied
Sam
.
