almost resolved into certainty by Mrs Snagsby’s pertinacity in that
fixed gaze。 His mental sufferings are so great； that he entertains
wandering ideas of delivering himself up to justice； and requiring
to be cleared； if innocent； and punished with the utmost rigour of
the law； if guilty。
Mr Weevle and Mr Guppy； having taken their breakfast； step
into Lincoln’s Inn to take a little walk about the square； and clear
as many of the dark cobwebs out of their brains as a little walk
may。
“There can be no more favourable time than the present；
Tony；” says Mr Guppy； after they have broodingly made out the
four sides of the square； “for a word or two between us； upon a
point on which we must； with very little delay； come to an
understanding。”
“Now； I tell you what； William G。！” returns the other； eyeing his
companion with a bloodshot eye。 “If it’s a point of conspiracy； you
needn’t take the trouble to mention it。 I have had enough of that；
and I ain’t going to have any more。 We shall have you taking fire
next； or blowing up with a bang。”
This supposititious phenomenon is so very disagreeable to Mr
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Guppy that his voice quakes； as he says in a moral way； “Tony； I
should have thought that what we went through last night； would
have been a lesson to you never to be personal any more as long as
you lived。” To which Mr Weevle returns； “William； I should have
thought it would have been a lesson to you never to conspire any
more as long as you lived。” To which Mr Guppy says； “Who’s
conspiring？” To which Mr Jobling replies； “Why； you are！” To
which Mr Guppy retorts； “No； I am not。” To which Mr Jobling
retorts again； “Yes； you are！” To which Mr Guppy retorts； “Who
says so？” To which Mr Jobling retorts； “I say so！” To which Mr
Guppy retorts； “Oh； indeed！” To which Mr Jobling retorts； “Yes；
indeed！” And both being now in a heated state； they walk on
silently for a while； to cool down again。
“Tony；” says Mr Guppy； then； “if you heard your friend out；
instead of flying at him； you wouldn’t fall into mistakes。 But your
temper is hasty； and you are not considerate。 Possessing in
yourself； Tony； all that is calculated to charm the eye—”
“Oh！ Blow the eye！” cries Mr Weevle； cutting him short。 “Say
what you have got to say！”
Finding his friend in this morose and material condition； Mr
Guppy only expresses the finer feelings of his soul through the
tone of injury in which he recommences：
“Tony； when I say there is a point on which we must come to an
understanding pretty soon； I say so quite apart from any
conspiring； however innocent。 You know it is professionally
arranged beforehand； in all cases that are tried； what facts the
witnesses are to prove。 Is it； or is it not； desirable that we should
know what facts we are to prove； on the inquiry into the death of
this unfortunate old Mo—gentleman？” （Mr Guppy was going to
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Bleak House 639
say； Mogul； but thinks gentleman better suited to the
circumstances。） “What facts？ The facts。”
“The facts bearing on that inquiry。 Those are—” Mr Guppy tells
them off on his fingers—“what we knew of his habits； when you
saw him last； what his condition was then； the discovery that we
made； and how we made it。”
“Yes；” said Mr Weevle。 “Those are about the facts。”
“We made the discovery； in consequence of his having； in his
eccentric way； an appointment with you at twelve o’clock at night；
when you were to explain some writing to him； as you had often
done before； on account of his not being able to read。 I； spending
the evening with you； was called down—and so forth。 The inquiry
being only into the circumstances touching the death of the
deceased； it’s not necessary to go beyond these facts； I suppose
you’ll agree？”
“No！” returns Mr Weevle。 “I suppose not。”
“And this is not a conspiracy； perhaps？” says the injured
Guppy。
“No；” returns his friend； “if it’s nothing worse than this； I
withdraw the observation。”
“Now； Tony；” says Mr Guppy； taking his arm again； and
walking him slowly on； “I should like to know； in a friendly way；
whether you have yet thought over the many advantages of your
continuing to live at that place？”
“What do you mean？” says Tony； stopping。
“Whether you have yet thought over the many advantages of
your continuing to live at that place？” repeats Mr Guppy； walking
him on again。
“At what place？ That place？” pointing in the direction of the
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rag and bottle shop。
Mr Guppy nods。
“Why； I wouldn’t pass another night there； for any
consideration that you could offer me；” says Mr Weevle haggardly
staring。
“Do you mean it； though； Tony？”
“Mean it！ Do I look as if I mean it？ I feel as if I do； I know that；”
says Mr Weevle； with a very genuine shudder。
“Then the possibility or probability—for such it must be
considered—of your never being disturbed in possession of those
effects； lately belonging to a lone old man who seemed to have no
relation in the world； and the certainty of your being able to find
out what he really had got stored up there； don’t weigh with you at
all against last night； Tony； if I understand you？” says Mr Guppy；
biting his thumb with the appetite of vexation。
“Certainly not。 Talk in that cool way of a fellow’s living there？”
cries Mr Weevle； indignantly。 “Go and live there yourself。”
“O！ I； Tony！” says Mr Guppy； soothing him。 “I have never lived
there； and couldn’t get a lodging there now； whereas you have got
one。”
“You are welcome to it；” rejoins his friend； “and—ugh！—you
may make yourself at home in it。”
“Then you really and truly at this point；” says Mr Guppy； “give
up the whole thing； if I understand you； Tony？”
“You never；” returns Tony； with a most convincing
steadfastness； “said a truer word in all your life。 I do！”
While they are so conversing； a hackney…coach drives into the
square； on the box of which vehicle a very tall hat makes itself
manifest to the public。 Inside the coach； and consequently not so
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manifest to the multitude； though sufficiently so to the two friends；
for the coach stops almost at their feet； are the venerable Mr
Smallweed and Mrs Smallweed； accompanied by their
granddaughter Judy。 An air of haste and excitement pervades the
party； and as the tall hat （surmounting Mr Smallweed the
younger） alights； Mr Smallweed the elder pokes his head out of
window； and bawls to Mr Guppy； “How de do； sir！ How de do！”
“What do Chick and his family want here at this time of the
morning； I wonder！” says Mr Guppy； nodding to his familiar。
“My dear sir；” cries Grandfather Smallweed； “would you do me
a favour？ Would you and your friend be so very obleeging as to
carry me into the public…house in the court； while Bart and his
sister bring their grandmother along？ Would you do an old man
that good turn； sir？”
Mr Guppy looks at his friend； repeating inquiringly； “the
public…house in the court？” And they prepare to bear the
venerable burden to the Sol’s Arms。
“There’s your fare！” says the Patriarch to the coachman with a
fierce grin； and shaking his incapable fist at him。 “Ask me for a
penny more； and I’ll have my lawful revenge upon you。 My dear
young men； be easy with me； if you please。 Allow me to catch you
round the neck。 I won’t squeeze you tighter than I can help。 O
Lord！ O dear me！ O my bones！”
It is well that the Sol is not far off； for Mr Weevle presents an
apoplectic appearance before half the distance is accomplished。
With no worse aggravation of his symptoms； however； than the
utterance of divers croaking sounds； expressive of obstructive
respiration； he fulfi
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