第154章
- THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP
- Charles Dickens
- 604字
- 2016-03-02 16:32:16
Watchful as a lynx, one glance showed the dwarf that he had come on business.Absorbed in appearance, as we have seen, and feigning a profound abstraction, he noted every circumstance of his behaviour, and when he withdrew with his family, shot out after him.In fine, he traced them to the notary's house; learnt the destination of the carriage from one of the postilions; and knowing that a fast night-coach started for the same place, at the very hour which was on the point of striking, from a street hard by, darted round to the coach-office without more ado, and took his seat upon the roof.
After passing and repassing the carriage on the road, and being passed and repassed by it sundry times in the course of the night, according as their stoppages were longer or shorter; or their rate of travelling varied, they reached the town almost together.Quilp kept the chaise in sight, mingled with the crowd, learnt the single gentleman's errand, and its failure, and having possessed himself of all that it was material to know, hurried off, reached the inn before him, had the interview just now detailed, and shut himself up in the little room in which he hastily reviewed all these occurrences.
'You are there, are you, my friend?' he repeated, greedily biting his nails.'I am suspected and thrown aside, and Kit's the confidential agent, is he? I shall have to dispose of him, I fear.
If we had come up with them this morning,' he continued, after a thoughtful pause, 'I was ready to prove a pretty good claim.Icould have made my profit.But for these canting hypocrites, the lad and his mother, I could get this fiery gentleman as comfortably into my net as our old friend--our mutual friend, ha! ha!--and chubby, rosy Nell.At the worst, it's a golden opportunity, not to be lost.Let us find them first, and I'll find means of draining you of some of your superfluous cash, sir, while there are prison bars, and bolts, and locks, to keep your friend or kinsman safely.
I hate your virtuous people!' said the dwarf, throwing off a bumper of brandy, and smacking his lips, 'ah! I hate 'em every one!'
This was not a mere empty vaunt, but a deliberate avowal of his real sentiments; for Mr Quilp, who loved nobody, had by little and little come to hate everybody nearly or remotely connected with his ruined client: --the old man himself, because he had been able to deceive him and elude his vigilance --the child, because she was the object of Mrs Quilp's commiseration and constant self-reproach --the single gentleman, because of his unconcealed aversion to himself --Kit and his mother, most mortally, for the reasons shown.
Above and beyond that general feeling of opposition to them, which would have been inseparable from his ravenous desire to enrich himself by these altered circumstances, Daniel Quilp hated them every one.
In this amiable mood, Mr Quilp enlivened himself and his hatreds with more brandy, and then, changing his quarters, withdrew to an obscure alehouse, under cover of which seclusion he instituted all possible inquiries that might lead to the discovery of the old man and his grandchild.But all was in vain.Not the slightest trace or clue could be obtained.They had left the town by night; no one had seen them go; no one had met them on the road; the driver of no coach, cart, or waggon, had seen any travellers answering their description; nobody had fallen in with them, or heard of them.