for it。 Mrs Chadband； no doubt？”
“And Mrs Snagsby；” Mr Smallweed introduces。
“Husband a law…stationer； and friend of my own；” says Mr
Bucket。 “Love him like a brother！—Now； what’s up？”
“Do you mean what business have we come upon？” Mr
Smallweed asks； a little dashed by the suddenness of this turn！
“Ah！ You know what I mean。 Let us hear what it’s all about in
presence of Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet。 Come！”
Mr Smallweed； beckoning Mr Chadband； takes a moment’s
counsel with him in a whisper。 Mr Chadband； expressing a
considerable amount of oil from the pores of his forehead and the
palms of his hands； says aloud； “Yes。 You first！” and retires to his
former place。
“I was the client and friend of Mr Tulkinghorn；” pipes
Grandfather Smallweed； then； “I did business with him。 I was
useful to him； and he was useful to me。 Krook； dead and gone； was
my brother…in…law。 He was own brother to a brimstone magpie—
leastways Mrs Smallweed。 I come into Krook’s property。 I
examined all his papers and all his effects。 They was all dug out
under my eyes。 There was a bundle of letters belonging to a dead…
and…gone lodger； as was hid away at the back of a shelf in the side
of Lady Jane’s bed—his cat’s bed。 He hid all manner of things
away； everywheres。 Mr Tulkinghorn wanted ’em and got ’em； but I
looked ’em over first。 I’m a man of business； and I took a squint at
’em。 They was letters from the lodger’s sweetheart； and she signed
Honoria。 Dear me； that’s not a common name； Honoria； is it？
There’s no lady in this house that signs Honoria； is there？ O no； I
don’t think so！ O no； I don’t think so！ And not in the same hand；
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perhaps？ O no； I don’t think so！”
Here Mr Smallweed； seized with a fit of coughing in the midst
of his triumph； breaks off to ejaculate； “O； dear me！ O Lord！ I’m
shaken all to pieces！”
“Now； when you’re ready；” says Mr Bucket； after awaiting his
recovery； “to come to anything that concerns Sir Leicester
Dedlock； Baronet； here the gentleman sits； you know。”
“Haven’t I come to it； Mr Bucket？” cries Grandfather
Smallweed。 “Isn’t the gentleman concerned yet？ Not with Captain
Hawdon and his ever affectionate Honoria； and their child into the
bargain？ Come； then； I want to know where those letters are。 That
concerns me； if it don’t concern Sir Leicester Dedlock。 I will know
where they are。 I won’t have ’em disappear so quietly。 I handed
’em over to my friend and solicitor； Mr Tulkinghorn； not to
anybody else。”
“Why he paid you for them； you know； and handsome； too；”
says Mr Bucket。
“I don’t care for that。 I want to know who’s got ’em。 And I tell
you what we want—what we all here want； Mr Bucket。 We want
more painstaking and search…making into this murder。 We know
where the interest and the motive was； and you have not done
enough。 If George the vagabond dragoon had any hand in it； he
was only an accomplice； and was set on。 You know what I mean as
well as any man。”
“Now； I tell you what；” says Mr Bucket； instantaneously
altering his manner； coming close to him； and communicating an
extraordinary fascination to the forefinger； “I am damned if I am
going to have my case spoilt； or interfered with； or anticipated by
so much as half a second of time； by any human being in creation。
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You want more painstaking and search…making？ You do？ Do you
see this hand； and do you think that I don’t know the right time to
stretch it out； and put it on the arm that fired that shot？
Such is the dread power of the man； and so terribly evident it is
that he makes no idle boast； that Mr Smallweed begins to
apologise。 Mr Bucket； dismissing his sudden anger； checks him。
“The advice I give you is； don’t you trouble your head about the
murder。 That’s my affair。 You keep half an eye on the newspapers；
and I shouldn’t wonder if you was to read something about it
before long； if you look sharp。 I know my business； and that’s all
I’ve got to say to you on that subject。 Now about those letters。 You
want to know who’s got ’em。 I don’t mind telling you。 I have got
’em。 Is that the packet？”
Mr Smallweed looks； with greedy eyes； at the little bundle Mr
Bucket produces from a mysterious part of his coat； and identifies
it as the same。
“What have you got to say next？” asks Mr Bucket。 “Now； don’t
open your mouth too wide； because you don’t look handsome
when you do it。”
“I want five hundred pound。”
“No； you don’t； you mean fifty；” says Mr Bucket； humorously。
It appears； however； that Mr Smallweed means five hundred。
“That is； I am deputed by Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet； to
consider （without admitting or promising anything） this bit of
business；” says Mr Bucket； Sir Leicester mechanically bows his
head； “and you ask me to consider a proposal of five hundred
pounds。 Why； it’s an unreasonable proposal！ Two fifty would be
bad enough； but better than that。 Hadn’t you better say two fifty？”
Mr Smallweed is quite clear that he had better not。
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“Then；” says Mr Bucket； “let’s hear Mr Chadband。 Lord！ Many
a time I’ve heard my old fellow…serjeant of that name； and a
moderate man he was in all respects； as ever I come across！”
Thus invited； Mr Chadband steps forth； and； after a little sleek
smiling； and a little oil…grinding with the palms of his hands；
delivers himself as follows：
“My friends； we are now—Rachael my wife； and I—in the
mansions of the rich and great。 Why are we now in the mansions
of the rich and great； my friends？ Is it because we are invited？
Because we are bidden to feast with them； because we are bidden
to rejoice with them； because we are bidden to play the lute with
them； because we are bidden to dance with them？ No。 Then why
are we here； my friends？ Air we in possession of a sinful secret；
and doe we require corn； and wine； and oil—or； what is much the
same thing； money—for the keeping thereof？ Probably so； my
friends。”
“You’re a man of business； you are；” returns Mr Bucket； very
attentive； “and consequently you’re going on to mention what the
nature of your secret is。 You are right。 You couldn’t do better。”
“Let us then； my brother； in a spirit of love；” says Mr
Chadband； with a cunning eye； “proceed untoe it。 Rachael； my
wife； advance！”
Mrs Chadband； more than ready； so advances as to jostle her
husband into the background； and confronts Mr Bucket with a
hard frowning smile。
“Since you want to know what we know；” says she； “I’ll tell you。
I helped to bring up Miss Hawdon； her Ladyship’s daughter。 I was
in the service of her Ladyship’s sister； who was very sensitive to
the disgrace her Ladyship brought upon her； and gave out； even to
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her Ladyship； that the child was dead—she was very nearly so—
when she was born。 But she’s alive； and I know her。” With these
words； and a laugh； and laying a bitter stress on the word
“Ladyship；” Mrs Chadband folds her arms； and looks implacably
at Mr Bucket。
“I suppose now；” returns that officer； “you will be expecting a
twenty…pound note； or a present of about that figure？”
Mrs Chadband merely laughs； and contemptuously tells him he
can “offer” twenty pence。
“My friend the law…stationer’s good lady over there；” says Mr
Bucket； luring Mrs Snagsby forward with the finger。 “What may
your game be； ma’am？”
Mrs Snagsby is at first prevented； by tears and lamentations；
from stating the nature of her game： but by degrees it confusedly
comes to light； that she is a woman overwhelmed with injuries and
wrongs； whom Mr Snagsby has habitually deceived； abandoned；
and sought to keep in darkness； and whose chief comfort； under
her afflictions； has been the sympathy of the late Mr Tulkinghorn；
who showed so much commiseration for her； on one occasion of
his calling in Cook’s Court in the absence of her perjured husband；
that she has of late hab
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