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Chapter LXVII
Unconscious of the proceedings faithfully narrated in the last chapter,
and little dreaming of the mine which had been sprung beneath him
(
for, to the end that he should have no warning of the business a-foot,
the profoundest secrecy was observed in the whole transaction), Mr
Quilp remained shut up in his hermitage, undisturbed by any
suspicion, and extremely well satisfied with the result of his
machinations. Being engaged in the adjustment of some accounts - an
occupation to which the silence and solitude of his retreat were very
favourable - he had not strayed from his den for two whole days. The
third day of his devotion to this pursuit found him still hard at work,
and little disposed to stir abroad.
It was the day next after Mr Brass's confession, and consequently,
that which threatened the restriction of Mr Quilp's liberty, and the
abrupt communication to him of some very unpleasant and
unwelcome facts. Having no intuitive perception of the cloud which
lowered upon his house, the dwarf was in his ordinary state of
cheerfulness; and, when he found he was becoming too much
engrossed by business with a due regard to his health and spirits, he
varied its monotonous routine with a little screeching, or howling, or
some other innocent relaxation of that nature.
He was attended, as usual, by Tom Scott, who sat crouching over the
fire after the manner of a toad, and, from time to time, when his
master's back was turned, imitating his grimaces with a fearful
exactness. The figure-head had not yet disappeared, but remained in
its old place. The face, horribly seared by the frequent application of
the red-hot poker, and further ornamented by the insertion, in the tip
of the nose, of a tenpenny nail, yet smiled blandly in its less lacerated
parts, and seemed, like a sturdy martyr, to provoke its tormentor to
the commission of new outrages and insults. The day, in the highest
and brightest quarters of the town, was damp, dark, cold and gloomy.
In that low and marshy spot, the fog filled every nook and corner with
a thick dense cloud. Every object was obscure at one or two yards'
distance. The warning lights and fires upon the river were powerless
beneath this pall, and, but for a raw and piercing chillness in the air,
and now and then the cry of some bewildered boatman as he rested
on his oars and tried to make out where he was, the river itself might
have been miles away.
The mist, though sluggish and slow to move, was of a keenly
searching kind. No muffling up in furs and broadcloth kept it out. It
seemed to penetrate into the very bones of the shrinking wayfarers,
and to rack them with cold and pains. Everything was wet and
clammy to the touch. The warm blaze alone defied it, and leaped and
sparkled merrily. It was a day to be at home, crowding about the fire,
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