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The course which these adventures shape out for themselves, andimperatively call upon the historian to observe, now demands that theyshould revert to the point they attained previously to the commencementof the last chapter, when Ralph Nickleby and Arthur Gride were lefttogether in the house where death had so suddenly reared his dark andheavy banner.

With clenched hands, and teeth ground together so firm and tight thatno locking of the jaws could have fixed and riveted them more securely,Ralph stood, for some minutes, in the attitude in which he had lastaddressed his nephew: breathing heavily, but as rigid and motionlessin other respects as if he had been a brazen statue. After a time, hebegan, by slow degrees, as a man rousing himself from heavy slumber, torelax. For a moment he shook his clasped fist towards the door by whichNicholas had disappeared; and then thrusting it into his breast, asif to repress by force even this show of passion, turned round andconfronted the less hardy usurer, who had not yet risen from the ground.

The cowering wretch, who still shook in every limb, and whose few greyhairs trembled and quivered on his head with abject dismay, tottered tohis feet as he met Ralph's eye, and, shielding his face with both hands,protested, while he crept towards the door, that it was no fault of his.

'Who said it was, man?' returned Ralph, in a suppressed voice. 'Who saidit was?'

'You looked as if you thought I was to blame,' said Gride, timidly.

'Pshaw!' Ralph muttered, forcing a laugh. 'I blame him for not living anhour longer. One hour longer would have been long enough. I blame no oneelse.'

'N--n--no one else?' said Gride.

'Not for this mischance,' replied Ralph. 'I have an old score to clearwith that young fellow who has carried off your mistress; but that hasnothing to do with his blustering just now, for we should soon have beenquit of him, but for this cursed accident.'

There was something so unnatural in the calmness with which RalphNickleby spoke, when coupled with his face, the expression of thefeatures, to which every nerve and muscle, as it twitched and throbbedwith a spasm whose workings no effort could conceal, gave, everyinstant, some new and frightful aspect--there was something so unnaturaland ghastly in the contrast between his harsh, slow, steady voice (onlyaltered by a certain halting of the breath which made him pause betweenalmost every word like a drunken man bent upon speaking plainly),and these evidences of the most intense and violent passion, and thestruggle he made to keep them under; that if the dead body which layabove had stood, instead of him, before the cowering Gride, it couldscarcely have presented a spectacle which would have terrified him more.

'The coach,' said Ralph after a time, during which he had struggled likesome strong man against a fit. 'We came in a coach. Is it waiting?'

Gride gladly availed himself of the pretext for going to the window tosee. Ralph, keeping his face steadily the other way, tore at his shirtwith the hand which he had thrust into his breast, and muttered in ahoarse whisper:

'Ten thousand pounds! He said ten thousand! The precise sum paid in butyesterday for the two mortgages, and which would have gone out again, atheavy interest, tomorrow. If that house has failed, and he the first tobring the news!--Is the coach there?'

'Yes, yes,' said Gride, startled by the fierce tone of the inquiry.'It's here. Dear, dear, what a fiery man you are!'

'Come here,' said Ralph, beckoning to him. 'We mustn't make a show ofbeing disturbed. We'll go down arm in arm.'

'But you pinch me black and blue,' urged Gride.

Ralph let him go impatiently, and descending the stairs with his usualfirm and heavy tread, got into the coach. Arthur Gride followed. Afterlooking doubtfully at Ralph when the man asked where he was to drive,and finding that he remained silent, and expressed no wish upon thesubject, Arthur mentioned his own house, and thither they proceeded.

On their way, Ralph sat in the furthest corner with folded arms, anduttered not a word. With his chin sunk upon his breast, and his downcasteyes quite hidden by the contraction of his knotted brows, he mighthave been asleep for any sign of consciousness he gave until the coachstopped, when he raised his head, and glancing through the window,inquired what place that was.

'My house,' answered the disconsolate Gride, affected perhaps by itsloneliness. 'Oh dear! my house.'

'True,' said Ralph 'I have not observed the way we came. I should like aglass of water. You have that in the house, I suppose?'

'You shall have a glass of--of anything you like,' answered Gride, witha groan. 'It's no use knocking, coachman. Ring the bell!'

The man rang, and rang, and rang again; then, knocked until the streetre-echoed with the sounds; then, listened at the keyhole of the door.Nobody came. The house was silent as the grave.

'How's this?' said Ralph impatiently.

'Peg is so very deaf,' answered Gride with a look of anxiety and alarm.'Oh dear! Ring again, coachman. She SEES the bell.'

Again the man rang and knocked, and knocked and rang again. Some of theneighbours threw up their windows, and called across the street to eachother that old Gride's housekeeper must have dropped down dead. Otherscollected round the coach, and gave vent to various surmises; some heldthat she had fallen asleep; some, that she had burnt herself to death;some, that she had got drunk; and one very fat man that she had seensomething to eat which had frightened her so much (not being used toit) that she had fallen into a fit. This last suggestion particularlydelighted the bystanders, who cheered it rather uproariously, and were,with some difficulty, deterred from dropping down the area and breakingopen the kitchen door to ascertain the fact. Nor was this all. Rumourshaving gone abroad that Arthur was to be married that morning, veryparticular inquiries were made after the bride, who was held by themajority to be disguised in the person of Mr Ralph Nickleby, which gaverise to much jocose indignation at the public appearance of a bride inboots and pantaloons, and called forth a great many hoots and groans.At length, the two money-lenders obtained shelter in a house next door,and, being accommodated with a ladder, clambered over the wall of theback-yard--which was not a high one--and descended in safety on theother side.

'I am almost afraid to go in, I declare,' said Arthur, turning to Ralphwhen they were alone. 'Suppose she should be murdered. Lying with herbrains knocked out by a poker, eh?'

'Suppose she were,' said Ralph. 'I tell you, I wish such things weremore common than they are, and more easily done. You may stare andshiver. I do!'

He applied himself to a pump in the yard; and, having taken a deepdraught of water and flung a quantity on his head and face, regained hisaccustomed manner and led the way into the house: Gride following closeat his heels.

It was the same dark place as ever: every room dismal and silent as itwas wont to be, and every ghostly article of furniture in its customaryplace. The iron heart of the grim old clock, undisturbed by all thenoise without, still beat heavily within its dusty case; the totteringpresses slunk from the sight, as usual, in their melancholy corners;the echoes of footsteps returned the same dreary sound; the long-leggedspider paused in his nimble run, and, scared by the sight of men in thathis dull domain, hung motionless on the wall, counterfeiting death untilthey should have passed him by.

From cellar to garret went the two usurers, opening every creaking doorand looking into every deserted room. But no Peg was there. Atlast, they sat them down in the apartment which Arthur Gride usuallyinhabited, to rest after their search.

'The hag is out, on some preparation for your wedding festivities, Isuppose,' said Ralph, preparing to depart. 'See here! I destroy thebond; we shall never need it now.'

Gride, who had been peering narrowly about the room, fell, at thatmoment, upon his knees before a large chest, and uttered a terribleyell.

'How now?' said Ralph, looking sternly round.

'Robbed! robbed!' screamed Arthur Gride.

'Robbed! of money?'

'No, no, no. Worse! far worse!'

'Of what then?' demanded Ralph.

'Worse than money, worse than money!' cried the old man, casting thepapers out of the chest, like some beast tearing up the earth. 'She hadbetter have stolen money--all my money--I haven't much! She had betterhave made me a beggar than have done this!'

'Done what?' said Ralph. 'Done what, you devil's dotard?'

Still Gride made no answer, but tore and scratched among the papers, andyelled and screeched like a fiend in torment.

'There is something missing, you say,' said Ralph, shaking him furiouslyby the collar. 'What is it?'

'Papers, deeds. I am a ruined man. Lost, lost! I am robbed, I am ruined!She saw me reading it--reading it of late--I did very often--She watchedme, saw me put it in the box that fitted into this, the box is gone, shehas stolen it. Damnation seize her, she has robbed me!'

'Of WHAT?' cried Ralph, on whom a sudden light appeared to break, forhis eyes flashed and his frame trembled with agitation as he clutchedGride by his bony arm. 'Of what?'

'She don't know what it is; she can't read!' shrieked Gride, not heedingthe inquiry. 'There's only one way in which money can be made of it, andthat is by taking it to her. Somebody will read it for her, and tell herwhat to do. She and her accomplice will get money for it and be let offbesides; they'll make a merit of it--say they found it--knew it--and beevidence against me. The only person it will fall upon is me, me, me!'

'Patience!' said Ralph, clutching him still tighter and eyeing him witha sidelong look, so fixed and eager as sufficiently to denote that hehad some hidden purpose in what he was about to say. 'Hear reason.She can't have been gone long. I'll call the police. Do you but giveinformation of what she has stolen, and they'll lay hands upon her,trust me. Here! Help!'

'No, no, no!' screamed the old man, putting his hand on Ralph's mouth.'I can't, I daren't.'

'Help! help!' cried Ralph.

'No, no, no!' shrieked the other, stamping on the ground with the energyof a madman. 'I tell you no. I daren't, I daren't!'

'Daren't make this robbery public?' said Ralph.

'No!' rejoined Gride, wringing his hands. 'Hush! Hush! Not a word ofthis; not a word must be said. I am undone. Whichever way I turn, I amundone. I am betrayed. I shall be given up. I shall die in Newgate!'

With frantic exclamations such as these, and with many others in whichfear, grief, and rage, were strangely blended, the panic-stricken wretchgradually subdued his first loud outcry, until it had softened down intoa low despairing moan, chequered now and then by a howl, as, going oversuch papers as were left in the chest, he discovered some new loss.With very little excuse for departing so abruptly, Ralph left him, and,greatly disappointing the loiterers outside the house by telling themthere was nothing the matter, got into the coach, and was driven to hisown home.

A letter lay on his table. He let it lie there for some time, as if hehad not the courage to open it, but at length did so and turned deadlypale.

'The worst has happened,' he said; 'the house has failed. I see. Therumour was abroad in the city last night, and reached the ears of thosemerchants. Well, well!'

He strode violently up and down the room and stopped again.

'Ten thousand pounds! And only lying there for a day--for one day! Howmany anxious years, how many pinching days and sleepless nights, beforeI scraped together that ten thousand pounds!--Ten thousand pounds! Howmany proud painted dames would have fawned and smiled, and how manyspendthrift blockheads done me lip-service to my face and cursed me intheir hearts, while I turned that ten thousand pounds into twenty! WhileI ground, and pinched, and used these needy borrowers for my pleasureand profit, what smooth-tongued speeches, and courteous looks, and civilletters, they would have given me! The cant of the lying world is,that men like me compass our riches by dissimulation and treachery:by fawning, cringing, and stooping. Why, how many lies, what mean andabject evasions, what humbled behaviour from upstarts who, but for mymoney, would spurn me aside as they do their betters every day, wouldthat ten thousand pounds have brought me in! Grant that I had doubledit--made cent. per cent.--for every sovereign told another--there wouldnot be one piece of money in all the heap which wouldn't represent tenthousand mean and paltry lies, told, not by the money-lender, oh no!but by the money-borrowers, your liberal, thoughtless, generous, dashingfolks, who wouldn't be so mean as save a sixpence for the world!'

Striving, as it would seem, to lose part of the bitterness of hisregrets in the bitterness of these other thoughts, Ralph continued topace the room. There was less and less of resolution in his manner ashis mind gradually reverted to his loss; at length, dropping into hiselbow-chair and grasping its sides so firmly that they creaked again, hesaid:

'The time has been when nothing could have moved me like the loss ofthis great sum. Nothing. For births, deaths, marriages, and allthe events which are of interest to most men, have (unless they areconnected with gain or loss of money) no interest for me. But now, Iswear, I mix up with the loss, his triumph in telling it. If he hadbrought it about,--I almost feel as if he had,--I couldn't hate himmore. Let me but retaliate upon him, by degrees, however slow--let mebut begin to get the better of him, let me but turn the scale--and I canbear it.'

His meditations were long and deep. They terminated in his dispatchinga letter by Newman, addressed to Mr Squeers at the Saracen's Head, withinstructions to inquire whether he had arrived in town, and, if so, towait an answer. Newman brought back the information that Mr Squeers hadcome by mail that morning, and had received the letter in bed; butthat he sent his duty, and word that he would get up and wait upon MrNickleby directly.

The interval between the delivery of this message, and the arrival of MrSqueers, was very short; but, before he came, Ralph had suppressed everysign of emotion, and once more regained the hard, immovable, inflexiblemanner which was habitual to him, and to which, perhaps, was ascribableno small part of the influence which, over many men of no very strongprejudices on the score of morality, he could exert, almost at will.

'Well, Mr Squeers,' he said, welcoming that worthy with his accustomedsmile, of which a sharp look and a thoughtful frown were part andparcel: 'how do YOU do?'

'Why, sir,' said Mr Squeers, 'I'm pretty well. So's the family, and so'sthe boys, except for a sort of rash as is a running through the school,and rather puts 'em off their feed. But it's a ill wind as blows no goodto nobody; that's what I always say when them lads has a wisitation. Awisitation, sir, is the lot of mortality. Mortality itself, sir, is awisitation. The world is chock full of wisitations; and if a boy repinesat a wisitation and makes you uncomfortable with his noise, he must havehis head punched. That's going according to the Scripter, that is.'

'Mr Squeers,' said Ralph, drily.

'Sir.'

'We'll avoid these precious morsels of morality if you please, and talkof business.'

'With all my heart, sir,' rejoined Squeers, 'and first let me say--'

'First let ME say, if you please.--Noggs!'

Newman presented himself when the summons had been twice or thricerepeated, and asked if his master called.

'I did. Go to your dinner. And go at once. Do you hear?'

'It an't time,' said Newman, doggedly.

'My time is yours, and I say it is,' returned Ralph.

'You alter it every day,' said Newman. 'It isn't fair.'

'You don't keep many cooks, and can easily apologise to them for thetrouble,' retorted Ralph. 'Begone, sir!'

Ralph not only issued this order in his most peremptory manner, but,under pretence of fetching some papers from the little office, sawit obeyed, and, when Newman had left the house, chained the door, toprevent the possibility of his returning secretly, by means of hislatch-key.

'I have reason to suspect that fellow,' said Ralph, when he returnedto his own office. 'Therefore, until I have thought of the shortest andleast troublesome way of ruining him, I hold it best to keep him at adistance.'

'It wouldn't take much to ruin him, I should think,' said Squeers, witha grin.

'Perhaps not,' answered Ralph. 'Nor to ruin a great many people whom Iknow. You were going to say--?'

Ralph's summary and matter-of-course way of holding up this example,and throwing out the hint that followed it, had evidently an effect (asdoubtless it was designed to have) upon Mr Squeers, who said, after alittle hesitation and in a much more subdued tone:

'Why, what I was a-going to say, sir, is, that this here businessregarding of that ungrateful and hard-hearted chap, Snawley senior,puts me out of my way, and occasions a inconveniency quite unparalleled,besides, as I may say, making, for whole weeks together, Mrs Squeers aperfect widder. It's a pleasure to me to act with you, of course.'

'Of course,' said Ralph, drily.

'Yes, I say of course,' resumed Mr Squeers, rubbing his knees, 'but atthe same time, when one comes, as I do now, better than two hundredand fifty mile to take a afferdavid, it does put a man out a good deal,letting alone the risk.'

'And where may the risk be, Mr Squeers?' said Ralph.

'I said, letting alone the risk,' replied Squeers, evasively.

'And I said, where was the risk?'

'I wasn't complaining, you know, Mr Nickleby,' pleaded Squeers. 'Upon myword I never see such a--'

'I ask you where is the risk?' repeated Ralph, emphatically.

'Where the risk?' returned Squeers, rubbing his knees still harder.'Why, it an't necessary to mention. Certain subjects is best awoided.Oh, you know what risk I mean.'

'How often have I told you,' said Ralph, 'and how often am I to tellyou, that you run no risk? What have you sworn, or what are you asked toswear, but that at such and such a time a boy was left with you in thename of Smike; that he was at your school for a given number of years,was lost under such and such circumstances, is now found, and has beenidentified by you in such and such keeping? This is all true; is itnot?'

'Yes,' replied Squeers, 'that's all true.'

'Well, then,' said Ralph, 'what risk do you run? Who swears to a lie butSnawley; a man whom I have paid much less than I have you?'

'He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley,' observed Squeers.

'He did it cheap!' retorted Ralph, testily; 'yes, and he did it well,and carries it off with a hypocritical face and a sanctified air, butyou! Risk! What do you mean by risk? The certificates are all genuine,Snawley HAD another son, he HAS been married twice, his first wife ISdead, none but her ghost could tell that she didn't write that letter,none but Snawley himself can tell that this is not his son, and that hisson is food for worms! The only perjury is Snawley's, and I fancy he ispretty well used to it. Where's your risk?'

'Why, you know,' said Squeers, fidgeting in his chair, 'if you come tothat, I might say where's yours?'

'You might say where's mine!' returned Ralph; 'you may say where's mine.I don't appear in the business, neither do you. All Snawley's interestis to stick well to the story he has told; and all his risk is, todepart from it in the least. Talk of YOUR risk in the conspiracy!'

'I say,' remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round: 'don't call itthat! Just as a favour, don't.'

'Call it what you like,' said Ralph, irritably, 'but attend to me. Thistale was originally fabricated as a means of annoyance against one whohurt your trade and half cudgelled you to death, and to enable you toobtain repossession of a half-dead drudge, whom you wished to regain,because, while you wreaked your vengeance on him for his share in thebusiness, you knew that the knowledge that he was again in your powerwould be the best punishment you could inflict upon your enemy. Is thatso, Mr Squeers?'

'Why, sir,' returned Squeers, almost overpowered by the determinationwhich Ralph displayed to make everything tell against him, and by hisstern unyielding manner, 'in a measure it was.'

'What does that mean?' said Ralph.

'Why, in a measure means,' returned Squeers, 'as it may be, that itwasn't all on my account, because you had some old grudge to satisfy,too.'

'If I had not had,' said Ralph, in no way abashed by the reminder, 'doyou think I should have helped you?'

'Why no, I don't suppose you would,' Squeers replied. 'I only wantedthat point to be all square and straight between us.'

'How can it ever be otherwise?' retorted Ralph. 'Except that the accountis against me, for I spend money to gratify my hatred, and you pocketit, and gratify yours at the same time. You are, at least, as avariciousas you are revengeful. So am I. Which is best off? You, who win moneyand revenge, at the same time and by the same process, and who are, atall events, sure of money, if not of revenge; or I, who am only sure ofspending money in any case, and can but win bare revenge at last?'

As Mr Squeers could only answer this proposition by shrugs and smiles,Ralph bade him be silent, and thankful that he was so well off; andthen, fixing his eyes steadily upon him, proceeded to say:

First, that Nicholas had thwarted him in a plan he had formed for thedisposal in marriage of a certain young lady, and had, in the confusionattendant on her father's sudden death, secured that lady himself, andborne her off in triumph.

Secondly, that by some will or settlement--certainly by some instrumentin writing, which must contain the young lady's name, and could be,therefore, easily selected from others, if access to the place where itwas deposited were once secured--she was entitled to property which,if the existence of this deed ever became known to her, would make herhusband (and Ralph represented that Nicholas was certain to marry her) arich and prosperous man, and most formidable enemy.

Thirdly, that this deed had been, with others, stolen from one who hadhimself obtained or concealed it fraudulently, and who feared to takeany steps for its recovery; and that he (Ralph) knew the thief.

To all this Mr Squeers listened, with greedy ears that devoured everysyllable, and with his one eye and his mouth wide open: marvelling forwhat special reason he was honoured with so much of Ralph's confidence,and to what it all tended.

'Now,' said Ralph, leaning forward, and placing his hand on Squeers'sarm, 'hear the design which I have conceived, and which I must--I say,must, if I can ripen it--have carried into execution. No advantage canbe reaped from this deed, whatever it is, save by the girl herself, orher husband; and the possession of this deed by one or other of themis indispensable to any advantage being gained. THAT I have discoveredbeyond the possibility of doubt. I want that deed brought here, thatI may give the man who brings it fifty pounds in gold, and burn it toashes before his face.'

Mr Squeers, after following with his eye the action of Ralph's handtowards the fire-place as if he were at that moment consuming the paper,drew a long breath, and said:

'Yes; but who's to bring it?'

'Nobody, perhaps, for much is to be done before it can be got at,' saidRalph. 'But if anybody--you!'

Mr Squeers's first tokens of consternation, and his flat relinquishmentof the task, would have staggered most men, if they had not immediatelyoccasioned an utter abandonment of the proposition. On Ralph theyproduced not the slightest effect. Resuming, when the schoolmaster hadquite talked himself out of breath, as coolly as if he had never beeninterrupted, Ralph proceeded to expatiate on such features of the caseas he deemed it most advisable to lay the greatest stress on.

These were, the age, decrepitude, and weakness of Mrs Sliderskew; thegreat improbability of her having any accomplice or even acquaintance:taking into account her secluded habits, and her long residence in sucha house as Gride's; the strong reason there was to suppose that therobbery was not the result of a concerted plan: otherwise she would havewatched an opportunity of carrying off a sum of money; the difficultyshe would be placed in when she began to think on what she had done, andfound herself encumbered with documents of whose nature she was utterlyignorant; and the comparative ease with which somebody, with a fullknowledge of her position, obtaining access to her, and working on herfears, if necessary, might worm himself into her confidence and obtain,under one pretence or another, free possession of the deed. To thesewere added such considerations as the constant residence of Mr Squeersat a long distance from London, which rendered his association with MrsSliderskew a mere masquerading frolic, in which nobody was likely torecognise him, either at the time or afterwards; the impossibility ofRalph's undertaking the task himself, he being already known to her bysight; and various comments on the uncommon tact and experience of MrSqueers: which would make his overreaching one old woman a mere matterof child's play and amusement. In addition to these influences andpersuasions, Ralph drew, with his utmost skill and power, a vividpicture of the defeat which Nicholas would sustain, should theysucceed, in linking himself to a beggar, where he expected to wed anheiress--glanced at the immeasurable importance it must be to a mansituated as Squeers, to preserve such a friend as himself--dwelt on along train of benefits, conferred since their first acquaintance, whenhe had reported favourably of his treatment of a sickly boy who had diedunder his hands (and whose death was very convenient to Ralph and hisclients, but this he did NOT say), and finally hinted that the fiftypounds might be increased to seventy-five, or, in the event of verygreat success, even to a hundred.

These arguments at length concluded, Mr Squeers crossed his legs,uncrossed them, scratched his head, rubbed his eye, examined the palmsof his hands, and bit his nails, and after exhibiting many other signsof restlessness and indecision, asked 'whether one hundred pound was thehighest that Mr Nickleby could go.' Being answered in the affirmative,he became restless again, and, after some thought, and an unsuccessfulinquiry 'whether he couldn't go another fifty,' said he supposed he musttry and do the most he could for a friend: which was always his maxim,and therefore he undertook the job.

'But how are you to get at the woman?' he said; 'that's what it is aspuzzles me.'

'I may not get at her at all,' replied Ralph, 'but I'll try. I havehunted people in this city, before now, who have been better hid thanshe; and I know quarters in which a guinea or two, carefully spent, willoften solve darker riddles than this. Ay, and keep them close too, ifneed be! I hear my man ringing at the door. We may as well part. You hadbetter not come to and fro, but wait till you hear from me.'

'Good!' returned Squeers. 'I say! If you shouldn't find her out, you'llpay expenses at the Saracen, and something for loss of time?'

'Well,' said Ralph, testily; 'yes! You have nothing more to say?'

Squeers shaking his head, Ralph accompanied him to the streetdoor, andaudibly wondering, for the edification of Newman, why it was fastenedas if it were night, let him in and Squeers out, and returned to his ownroom.

'Now!' he muttered, 'come what come may, for the present I am firm andunshaken. Let me but retrieve this one small portion of my loss anddisgrace; let me but defeat him in this one hope, dear to his heart asI know it must be; let me but do this; and it shall be the first link insuch a chain which I will wind about him, as never man forged yet.'