bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第125章
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happened； comes streaming in； half dressed； to ask questions； and
the two policemen and the helmet （who are far less impressible
externally than the court） have enough to do to keep the door。
“Good gracious； gentlemen！” says Mr Snagsby； coming up。
“What’s this I hear！”
“Why； it’s true；” returns one of the policemen。 “That’s what it
is。 Now move on here； come！”
“Why； good gracious； gentlemen；” says Mr Snagsby； somewhat
promptly backed away； “I was at this door last night betwixt ten
and eleven o’clock； in conversation with the young man who
lodges here。”
“Indeed？” returns the policeman。 “You will find the young man
next door； then。 Now move on here； some of you。”
“Not hurt； I hope？” says Mr Snagsby。
“Hurt？ No。 What’s to hurt him！”
Mr Snagsby； wholly unable to answer this； or any other
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question； in his troubled mind； repairs to the Sol’s Arms； and finds
Mr Weevle languishing over tea and toast； with a considerable
expression on him of exhausted excitement； and exhausted
tobacco…smoke。
“And Mr Guppy likewise！” quoth Mr Snagsby。 “Dear； dear；
dear！ What a fate there seems in all this！ And my lit—” Mr
Snagsby’s power of speech deserts him in the formation of the
words “my little woman。” For； to see that injured female walk into
the Sol’s Arms at that hour of the morning and stand before the
beer…engine； with her eyes fixed upon him like an accusing spirit；
strikes him dumb。
“My dear；” says Mr Snagsby； when his tongue is loosened； “will
you take anything？ A little—not to put too fine a point upon it—
drop of shrub？”
“No；” says Mrs Snagsby。
“My love； you know these two gentlemen？”
“Yes！” says Mrs Snagsby； and in a rigid manner acknowledges
their presence； still fixing Mr Snagsby with her eye。
The devoted Mr Snagsby cannot bear this treatment。 He takes
Mrs Snagsby by the hand； and leads her aside to an adjacent cask。
“My little woman； why do you look at me in that way？ Pray
don’t do it。”
“I can’t help my look；” says Mrs Snagsby； “and if I could I
wouldn’t。”
Mr Snagsby with his cough of meekness； rejoins；—“Wouldn’t
you really； my dear？” and meditates。 Then coughs his cough of
trouble； and says； “This is a dreadful mystery； my love！” still
fearfully disconcerted by Mrs Snagsby’s eye。
“It is；” returns Mrs Snagsby； shaking her head； “a dreadful
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Bleak House 636
mystery。”
“My little woman；” urges Mr Snagsby； in a piteous manner；
“don’t for goodness sake； speak to me with that bitter expression；
and look at me in that searching way！ I beg and entreat of you not
to do it。 Good lord； you don’t suppose that I would go
spontaneously combusting any person； my dear？”
“I can’t say；” returns Mrs Snagsby。
On a hasty review of his unfortunate position； Mr Snagsby
“can’t say；” either。 He is not prepared positively to deny that he
may have had something to do with it。 He has had something—he
don’t know what—to do with so much in this connection that is
mysterious； that it is possible he may even be implicated； without
knowing it； in the present transaction。 He faintly wipes his
forehead with his handkerchief； and gasps。
“My life；” says the unhappy stationer； “would you have any
objections to mention why； being in general so delicately
circumspect in your conduct； you come into a Wine Vaults before
breakfast？”
“Why do you come here？” inquires Mrs Snagsby。
“My dear； merely to know the rights of the fatal accident which
has happened to the venerable party who has been—combusted。”
Mr Snagsby has made a pause to suppress a groan。 “I should then
have related them to you； my love； over your French roll。”
“I dare say you would。 You relate everything to me； Mr
Snagsby。”
“Every—my lit—？”
“I should be glad；” says Mrs Snagsby； after contemplating his
increased confusion with a severe and sinister smile； “If you would
come home with me； I think you may be safer there； Mr Snagsby；
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than anywhere else。”
“My love； I don’t know but what I may be； I am sure。 I am ready
to go。”
Mr Snagsby casts his eyes forlornly round the bar； gives Messrs。
Weevle and Guppy good morning； assures them of the satisfaction
with which he sees them uninjured； and accompanies Mrs
Snagsby from the Sol’s Arms。 Before night his doubt whether he
may not be responsible for some inconceivable part in the
catastrophe which is the talk of the whole neighbourhood； is
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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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；
