‘Yes, sir, we do know it,’ replied Dodson.
‘Of course we know it, Sir,’ rejoined Fogg, slapping his pocket — perhaps by accident.
‘I see that you recollect it with satisfaction,’ said Mr. Pickwick, attempting to call up a sneer for the first time in his life, and failing most signally in so doing. ‘Although I have long been anxious to tell you, in plain terms, what my opinion of you is, I should have let even this opportunity pass, in deference to my friend Perker’s wishes, but for the unwarrantable tone you have assumed, and your insolent familiarity. I say insolent familiarity, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, turning upon Fogg with a fierceness of gesture which caused that person to retreat towards the door with great expedition.
‘Take care, Sir,’ said Dodson, who, though he was the biggest man of the party, had prudently entrenched himself behind Fogg, and was speaking over his head with a very pale face. ‘Let him assault you, Mr. Fogg; don’t return it on any account.’
‘No, no, I won’t return it,’ said Fogg, falling back a little more as he spoke; to the evident relief of his partner, who by these means was gradually getting into the outer office.
‘You are,’ continued Mr. Pickwick, resuming the thread of his discourse — ‘you are a well-matched pair of mean, rascally, pettifogging robbers.’
‘Well,’ interposed Perker, ‘is that all?’
‘It is all summed up in that,’ rejoined Mr. Pickwick; ‘they are mean, rascally, pettifogging robbers.’
‘There!’ said Perker, in a most conciliatory tone. ‘My dear sirs, he has said all he has to say. Now pray go. Lowten, is that door open?’
Mr. Lowten, with a distant giggle, replied in the affirmative.
‘There, there — good-morning — good-morning — now pray, my dear sirs — Mr. Lowten, the door!’ cried the little man, pushing Dodson & Fogg, nothing loath, out of the office; ‘this way, my dear sirs — now pray don’t prolong this — Dear me — Mr. Lowten — the door, sir — why don’t you attend?’
‘If there’s law in England, sir,’ said Dodson, looking towards Mr. Pickwick, as he put on his hat, ‘you shall smart for this.’
‘You are a couple of mean — ‘
‘Remember, sir, you pay dearly for this,’ said Fogg.
‘ — Rascally, pettifogging robbers!’ continued Mr. Pickwick, taking not the least notice of the threats that were addressed to him.
‘Robbers!’ cried Mr. Pickwick, running to the stair-head, as the two attorneys descended.
‘Robbers!’ shouted Mr. Pickwick, breaking from Lowten and Perker, and thrusting his head out of the staircase window.
When Mr. Pickwick drew in his head again, his countenance was smiling and placid; and, walking quietly back into the office, he declared that he had now removed a great weight from his mind, and that he felt perfectly comfortable and happy.
Perker said nothing at all until he had emptied his snuffbox, and sent Lowten out to fill it, when he was seized with a fit of laughing, which lasted five minutes; at the expiration of which time he said that he supposed he ought to be very angry, but he couldn’t think of the business seriously yet — when he could, he would be.
‘Well, now,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘let me have a settlement with you.’ ‘Of the same kind as the last?’ inquired Perker, with another laugh. ‘Not exactly,’ rejoined Mr. Pickwick, drawing out his pocketbook, and shaking the little man heartily by the hand, ‘I only mean a pecuniary settlement. You have done me many acts of kindness that I can never repay, and have no wish to repay, for I prefer continuing the obligation.’
With this preface, the two friends dived into some very complicated accounts and vouchers, which, having been duly displayed and gone through by Perker, were at once discharged by Mr. Pickwick with many professions of esteem and friendship.
They had no sooner arrived at this point, than a most violent and startling knocking was heard at the door; it was not an ordinary double-knock, but a constant and uninterrupted succession of the loudest single raps, as if the knocker were endowed with the perpetual motion, or the person outside had forgotten to leave off.
‘Dear me, what’s that?’ exclaimed Perker, starting.
‘I think it is a knock at the door,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as if there could be the smallest doubt of the fact.
The knocker made a more energetic reply than words could have yielded, for it continued to hammer with surprising force and noise, without a moment’s cessation.
‘Dear me!’ said Perker, ringing his bell, ‘we shall alarm the inn. Mr. Lowten, don’t you hear a knock?’
‘I’ll answer the door in one moment, Sir,’ replied the clerk.
The knocker appeared to hear the response, and to assert that it was quite impossible he could wait so long. It made a stupendous uproar.
‘It’s quite dreadful,’ said Mr. Pickwick, stopping his ears.
‘Make haste, Mr. Lowten,’ Perker called out; ‘we shall have the panels beaten in.’
Mr. Lowten, who was washing his hands in a dark closet, hurried to the door, and turning the handle, beheld the appearance which is described in the next chapter.
Chapter LIV.
Containing Some Particulars Relative to the Double Knock, and other Matters: Among which Certain Interesting Disclosures Relative to Mr. Snodgrass and a Young Lady are by No Means Irrelevant to This History
The object that presented itself to the eyes of the astonished clerk, was a boy — a wonderfully fat boy — habited as a serving lad, standing upright on the mat, with his eyes closed as if in sleep. He had never seen such a fat boy, in or out of a travelling caravan; and this, coupled with the calmness and repose of his appearance, so very different from what was reasonably to have been expected of the inflicter of such knocks, smote him with wonder.
‘What’s the matter?’ inquired the clerk.
The extraordinary boy replied not a word; but he nodded once, and seemed, to the clerk’s imagination, to snore feebly.
‘Where do you come from?’ inquired the clerk.
The boy made no sign. He breathed heavily, but in all other respects was motionless.
The clerk repeated the question thrice, and receiving no answer, prepared to shut the door, when the boy suddenly opened his eyes, winked several times, sneezed once, and raised his hand as if to repeat the knocking. Finding the door open, he stared about him with astonishment, and at length fixed his eyes on Mr. Lowten’s face.
‘What the devil do you knock in that way for?’ inquired the clerk angrily.
‘Which way?’ said the boy, in a slow and sleepy voice.
‘Why, like forty hackney-coachmen,’ replied the clerk.
‘Because master said, I wasn’t to leave off knocking till they opened the door, for fear I should go to sleep,’ said the boy.
‘Well,’ said the clerk, ‘what message have you brought?’
‘He’s downstairs,’ rejoined the boy.
‘Who?’
‘Master. He wants to know whether you’re at home.’
Mr. Lowten