bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第125节
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between his angry hands； “I have half a million of his signatures； I
think！ But you；” breathlessly recovering his mildness of speech； as
Judy readjusts the cap on his skittle…ball of a head； “You； my dear
Mr George； are likely to have some letter or paper that would suit
the purpose。 Anything would suit the purpose； written in the
hand。”
“Some writing in that hand；” says the trooper； pondering； “may
be； I have。”
“My dearest friend！”
“May be； I have not。”
“Ho！” says Grandfather Smallweed； crestfallen。
“But if I had bushels of it； I would not show as much as would
make a cartridge； without knowing why。”
“Sir； I have told you why。 My dear Mr George； I have told you
why。”
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Bleak House 520
“Not enough；” says the trooper； shaking his head。 “I must know
more； and approve it。”
“Then； will you come to the lawyer？ My dear friend； will you
come and see the gentleman？” urges Grandfather Smallweed；
pulling out a lean old silver watch； with hands like the legs of a
skeleton。 “I told him it was probable I might call upon him；
between ten and eleven this forenoon； and it’s now half after ten。
“Will you come and see the gentleman； Mr George？”
“Hum！” says he； gravely。 “I don’t mind that。 Though why this
should concern you so much； I don’t know。”
“Everything concerns me； that has a chance in it of bringing
anything to light about him。 Didn’t he take us all in？ Didn’t he owe
us immense sums； all round？ Concern me？ Who can anything
about him concern； more than me？ Not； my dear friend；” says
Grandfather Smallweed； lowering his tone； “that I want you to
betray anything。 Far from it。 Are you ready to come； my dear
friend？”
“Ay！ I’ll come in a moment。 I promise nothing； you know。”
“No； my dear Mr George； no。”
“And you mean to say you’re going to give me a lift to this place；
wherever it is； without charging for it？” Mr George inquires；
getting his hat； and thick wash…leather gloves。
This pleasantry so tickles Mr Smallweed； that he laughs long
and low； before the fire。 But even while he laughs； he glances over
his paralytic shoulder at Mr George； and eagerly watches him as
he unlocks the padlock of a homely cupboard at the distant end of
the gallery； looks here and there upon the higher shelves； and
ultimately takes something out with a rustling of paper； folds it；
and puts it in his breast。 Then Judy pokes Mr Smallweed once；
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Bleak House 521
and Mr Smallweed pokes Judy once。
“I am ready；” says the trooper； coming back。 “Phil； you can
carry this old gentleman to his coach； and make nothing of him。”
“O dear me！ O Lord！ Stop a moment！” says Mr Smallweed。
“He’s so very prompt！ Are you sure you can do it carefully； my
worthy man？”
Phil makes no reply； but； seizing the chair and its load； sidles
away； tightly hugged by the now speechless Mr Smallweed； and
bolts along the passage as if he had an acceptable commission to
carry the old gentleman to the nearest volcano。 His shorter trust；
however； terminating at the cab； he deposits him there； and the
fair Judy takes her place beside him； and the chair embellishes the
roof； and Mr George takes the vacant place on the box。
Mr George is quite confounded by the spectacle he beholds
from time to time as he peeps into the cab； through the window
behind him； where the grim Judy is always motionless； and the old
gentleman with his cap over one eye is always sliding off the seat
into the straw； and looking upward at him； out of his other eye；
with a helpless expression of being jolted in the back。
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Chapter 27
More Old Soldiers Than One
r George has not far to ride with folded arms upon the
box； for the destination is Lincoln’s Inn Fields。 When
M
the driver stops his horses； Mr George alights； and
looking in at the window； says：
“What； Mr Tulkinghorn’s your man； is he？”
“Yes； my dear friend。 Do you know him； Mr George？”
“Why； I have heard of him—seen him too； I think。 But I don’t
know him； and he don’t know me。”
There ensues the carrying of Mr Smallweed upstairs； which is
done to perfection with the trooper’s help。 He is borne into Mr
Tulkinghorn’s great room； and deposited on the Turkey rug before
the fire。 Mr Tulkinghorn is not within at the present moment； but
will be back directly。 The occupant of the pew in the hall； having
said thus much； stirs the fire； and leaves the triumvirate to warm
themselves。
Mr George is mightily curious in respect of the room。 He looks
up at the painted ceiling； looks round at the old law…books；
contemplates the portraits of the great clients； reads aloud the
names on the boxes。
“‘Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet；’” Mr George reads
thoughtfully。 “Ha！ ‘Manor of Chesney Wold。’ Humph！” Mr George
stands looking at these boxes a long while—as if they were
pictures—and comes back to the fire repeating； “Sir Leicester
Dedlock； Baronet； and Manor of Chesney Wold； hey？”
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Bleak House 523
“Worth a mint of money； Mr George！” whispers Grandfather
Smallweed； rubbing his legs。 “Powerfully rich！”
“Who do you mean？ This old gentleman； or the Baronet？”
“This gentleman； this gentleman。”
“So I have heard； and knows a thing or two； I’ll hold a wager。
Not bad quarters； either；” says Mr George； looking round again。
“See the strong box； yonder！”
This reply is cut short by Mr Tulkinghorn’s arrival。 There is no
change in him； of course。 Rustily dressed； with his spectacles in
his hand； and the very case worn threadbare。 In manner； close and
dry。 In voice； husky and low。 In face； watchful behind a blind；
habitually not uncensorious and contemptuous perhaps。 The
peerage may have warmer worshippers and faithfuller believers
than Mr Tulkinghorn； after all； if everything were known。
“Good morning； Mr Smallweed； good morning！” he says as he
comes in。 “You have brought the serjeant； I see。 Sit down；
serjeant。”
As Mr Tulkinghorn takes off his gloves and puts them in his
hat； he looks with half…closed eyes across the room to where the
trooper stands； and says within himself perchance； “You’ll do； my
friend！”
“Sit down； serjeant；” he repeats as he comes to his table； which
is set on one side of the fire； and takes his easy chair。 “Cold and
raw this morning； cold and raw！” Mr Tulkinghorn warms before
the bars； alternately； the palms and knuckles of his hands； and
looks （from behind that blind which is always down） at the trio
sitting in a little semicircle before him。
“Now； I can feel what I am about！” （as perhaps he can in two
senses） “Mr Smallweed。” The old gentleman is newly shaken up
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by Judy； to bear his part in the conversation。 “You have brought
our good friend the serjeant； I see。”
“Yes； sir；” returns Mr Smallweed； very servile to
