| 447 | 448 | 449 | 450 | 451 |
| 1 | 133 | 265 | 398 | 530 |
|
'Mr Swiveller,' says this gentleman to Dick, when he had told his tale
with evident reluctance and a desire to make the best of it: 'Pray sir,
where did you dine yesterday?' - 'Where did I dine yesterday?' - 'Aye,
sir, where did you dine yesterday - was it near here, sir?' - 'Oh to be
sure - yes - just over the way.' - 'To be sure. Yes. just over the way,'
repeats Mr Brass's gentleman, with a glance at the court. - 'Alone,
sir?' - 'I beg your pardon,' says Mr Swiveller, who has not caught the
question - 'Alone, sir?' repeats Mr Brass's gentleman in a voice of
thunder, 'did you dine alone? Did you treat anybody, sir? Come!' - 'Oh
yes, to be sure - yes, I did,' says Mr Swiveller with a smile. - 'Have the
goodness to banish a levity, sir, which is very ill-suited to the place in
which you stand (though perhaps you have reason to be thankful that
it's only that place),' says Mr Brass's gentleman, with a nod of the
head, insinuating that the dock is Mr Swiveller's legitimate sphere of
action; 'and attend to me. You were waiting about here, yesterday, in
expectation that this trial was coming on. You dined over the way. You
treated somebody. Now, was that somebody brother to the prisoner at
the bar?' - Mr Swiveller is proceeding to explain - 'Yes or No, sir,' cries
Mr Brass's gentleman - 'But will you allow me - ' - 'Yes or No, sir' -
'Yes it was, but - ' - 'Yes it was,' cries the gentleman, taking him up
short. 'And a very pretty witness YOU are!'
Down sits Mr Brass's gentleman. Kit's gentleman, not knowing how
the matter really stands, is afraid to pursue the subject. Richard
Swiveller retires abashed. Judge, jury and spectators have visions of
his lounging about, with an ill-looking, large-whiskered, dissolute
young fellow of six feet high. The reality is, little Jacob, with the calves
of his legs exposed to the open air, and himself tied up in a shawl.
Nobody knows the truth; everybody believes a falsehood; and all
because of the ingenuity of Mr Brass's gentleman.
Then come the witnesses to character, and here Mr Brass's gentleman
shines again. It turns out that Mr Garland has had no character with
Kit, no recommendation of him but from his own mother, and that he
was suddenly dismissed by his former master for unknown reasons.
'Really Mr Garland,' says Mr Brass's gentleman, 'for a person who has
arrived at your time of life, you are, to say the least of it, singularly
indiscreet, I think.' The jury think so too, and find Kit guilty. He is
taken off, humbly protesting his innocence. The spectators settle
themselves in their places with renewed attention, for there are
several female witnesses to be examined in the next case, and it has
been rumoured that Mr Brass's gentleman will make great fun in
cross-examining them for the prisoner.
Kit's mother, poor woman, is waiting at the grate below stairs,
accompanied by Barbara's mother (who, honest soul! never does
anything but cry, and hold the baby), and a sad interview ensues. The
newspaper-reading turnkey has told them all. He don't think it will be
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