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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
silent, internal chuckle, which Mr. Pickwick
disliked to hear. When a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous
thing for himself; but when he laughs inwardly, it bodes no
good to other people.
You havent made me out that little list of the fees that Im in
your debt, have you? said Perker.
No, I have not, replied the clerk.
I wish you would, said Perker. Let me have them, and Ill
send you a cheque. But I suppose youre too busy pocketing the
ready money, to think of the debtors, eh? ha, ha, ha! This sally
seemed to tickle the clerk amazingly, and he once more enjoyed
a little quiet laugh to himself.
But, Mr. Mallard, my dear friend, said Perker, suddenly
recovering his gravity, and drawing the great mans great man
into a Corner, by the lappel of his coat; you must persuade the
Serjeant to see me, and my client here.
Come, come, said the clerk, thats not bad either. See the
Serjeant! come, thats too absurd. Notwithstanding the absurdity
of the proposal, however, the clerk allowed himself to be
gently drawn beyond the hearing of Mr. Pickwick; and after a
short conversation conducted in whispers, walked softly down a
little dark passage, and disappeared into the legal luminarys
sanctum, whence he shortly returned on tiptoe, and informed
Mr. Perker and Mr. Pickwick that the Serjeant had been prevailed
upon, in violation of all established rules and customs, to admit
them at once.
Mr. Serjeant Snubbins was a lantern-faced, sallow-complexioned
man, of about five-and-forty, or--as the novels say--
he might be fifty. He had that dull-looking, boiled eye which is
often to be seen in the heads of people who have applied themselves
during many years to a weary and laborious course of
study; and which would have been sufficient, without the additional
eyeglass which dangled from a broad black riband round
his neck, to warn a stranger that he was very near-sighted. His
hair was thin and weak, which was partly attributable to his
having never devoted much time to its arrangement, and partly to
his having worn for five-and-twenty years the forensic wig which
hung on a block beside him. The marks of hairpowder on his
coat-collar, and the ill-washed and worse tied white neckerchief
round his throat, showed that he had not found leisure since he
left the court to make any alteration in his dress; while the
slovenly style of the remainder of his costume warranted the
inference that his personal appearance would not have been very
much improved if he had. Books of practice, heaps of papers,
and opened letters, were scattered over the table, without any
attempt at order or arrangement; the furniture of the room was
old and rickety; the doors of the book-case were rotting in their
hinges; the dust flew out from the carpet in little clouds at every
step; the blinds were yellow with age and dirt; the state of
everything in the room showed, with a clearness not to be
mistaken, that Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was far too much occupied
with his professional pursuits to take any great heed or regard of
his personal comforts.
The Serjeant was writing when his clients entered; he bowed
abstractedly when Mr. Pickwick was introduced by his solicitor;
and then, motioning them to a seat, put his pen carefully in the
inkstand, nursed his left leg, and waited to be spoken to.
Mr. Pickwick is the defendant in Bardell and Pickwick,
Serjeant Snubbin, said Perker.
I am retained in that, am I? said the Serjeant.
You are, Sir, replied Perker.
The Serjeant nodded his head, and waited for something else.
Mr. Pickwick was anxious to call upon you, Serjeant
Snubbin, said Perker, to state to you, before you entered upon
the case, that he denies there being any ground or pretence
whatever for the action against him; and that unless he came into
court with clean hands, and without the most conscientious
conviction that he was right in resisting the plaintiffs demand,
he would not be there at all. I believe I state your views correctly;
do I not, my dear Sir? said the little man, turning to Mr. Pickwick.
Quite so, replied that gentleman.
Mr. Serjeant Snubbin unfolded his glasses, raised them to his
eyes; and, after looking at Mr. Pickwick for a few seconds with
great curiosity, turned to Mr. Perker, and said, smiling slightly
as he spoke--
Has Mr. Pickwick a strong case?
The attorney shrugged his shoulders.
Do you propose calling witnesses?
No.
The smile on the Serjeants countenance became more defined;
he rocked his leg The Pickwick Papers page 208 The Pickwick Papers page 210 |