The Plots begin to fail, and Doubts and Dangers todisturb the Plotter.

　　Ralph sat alone, in the solitary room where he wasaccustomed to take his meals, and to sit of nights when noprofitable occupation called him abroad. Before him wasan untasted breakfast, and near to where his fingers beatrestlessly upon the table, lay his watch. It was long past the time atwhich, for many years, he had put it in his pocket and gone withmeasured steps downstairs to the business of the day, but he tookas little heed of its monotonous warning, as of the meat and drinkbefore him, and remained with his head resting on one hand, andhis eyes fixed moodily on the ground.

　　This departure from his regular and constant habit, in one soregular and unvarying in all that appertained to the daily pursuitof riches, would almost of itself have told that the usurer was notwell. That he laboured under some mental or bodily indisposition,and that it was one of no slight kind so to affect a man like him,was sufficiently shown by his haggard face, jaded air, and hollowlanguid eyes: which he raised at last with a start and a hastyglance around him, as one who suddenly awakes from sleep, andcannot immediately recognise the place in which he finds himself.

　　‘What is this,’ he said, ‘that hangs over me, and I cannot shakeoff? I have never pampered myself, and should not be ill. I havenever moped, and pined, and yielded to fancies; but what can aman do without rest?’

　　  1072He pressed his hand upon his forehead.

　　‘Night after night comes and goes, and I have no rest. If I sleep,what rest is that which is disturbed by constant dreams of thesame detested faces crowding round me—of the same detestedpeople, in every variety of action, mingling with all I say and do,and always to my defeat? Waking, what rest have I, constantlyhaunted by this heavy shadow of—I know not what—which is itsworst character? I must have rest. One night’s unbroken rest, andI should be a man again.’

　　Pushing the table from him while he spoke, as though heloathed the sight of food, he encountered the watch: the hands ofwhich were almost upon noon.

　　‘This is strange!’ he said; ‘noon, and Noggs not here! Whatdrunken brawl keeps him away? I would give something now—something in money even after that dreadful loss—if he hadstabbed a man in a tavern scuffle, or broken into a house, orpicked a pocket, or done anything that would send him abroadwith an iron ring upon his leg, and rid me of him. Better still, if Icould throw temptation in his way, and lure him on to rob me. Heshould be welcome to what he took, so I brought the law uponhim; for he is a traitor, I swear! How, or when, or where, I don’tknow, though I suspect.’

　　After waiting for another half-hour, he dispatched the womanwho kept his house to Newman’s lodging, to inquire if he were ill,and why he had not come or sent. She brought back answer thathe had not been home all night, and that no one could tell heranything about him.

　　‘But there is a gentleman, sir,’ she said, ‘below, who wasstanding at the door when I came in, and he says—’

　　  1073‘What says he?’ demanded Ralph, turning angrily upon her. ‘Itold you I would see nobody.’

　　‘He says,’ replied the woman, abashed by his harshness, ‘thathe comes on very particular business which admits of no excuse;and I thought perhaps it might be about—’

　　‘About what, in the devil’s name?’ said Ralph. ‘You spy andspeculate on people’s business with me, do you?’

　　‘Dear, no, sir! I saw you were anxious, and thought it might beabout Mr Noggs; that’s all.’

　　‘Saw I was anxious!’ muttered Ralph; ‘they all watch me, now.

　　Where is this person? You did not say I was not down yet, I hope?’

　　The woman replied that he was in the little office, and that shehad said her master was engaged, but she would take the message.

　　‘Well,’ said Ralph, ‘I’ll see him. Go you to your kitchen, andkeep there. Do you mind me?’

　　Glad to be released, the woman quickly disappeared. Collectinghimself, and assuming as much of his accustomed manner as hisutmost resolution could summon, Ralph descended the stairs.

　　After pausing for a few moments, with his hand upon the lock, heentered Newman’s room, and confronted Mr Charles Cheeryble.

　　Of all men alive, this was one of the last he would have wishedto meet at any time; but, now that he recognised in him only thepatron and protector of Nicholas, he would rather have seen aspectre. One beneficial effect, however, the encounter had uponhim. It instantly roused all his dormant energies; rekindled in hisbreast the passions that, for many years, had found an improvinghome there; called up all his wrath, hatred, and malice; restoredthe sneer to his lip, and the scowl to his brow; and made himagain, in all outward appearance, the same Ralph Nickleby whom  1074so many had bitter cause to remember.

　　‘Humph!’ said Ralph, pausing at the door. ‘This is anunexpected favour, sir.’

　　‘And an unwelcome one,’ said brother Charles; ‘an unwelcomeone, I know.’

　　‘Men say you are truth itself, sir,’ replied Ralph. ‘You speaktruth now, at all events, and I’ll not contradict you. The favour is,at least, as unwelcome as it is unexpected. I can scarcely saymore.’

　　‘Plainly, sir—’ began brother Charles.

　　‘Plainly, sir,’ interrupted Ralph, ‘I wish this conference to be ashort one, and to end where it begins. I guess the subject uponwhich you are about to speak, and I’ll not hear you. You likeplainness, I believe; there it is. Here is the door as you see. Ourway lies in very different directions. Take yours, I beg of you, andleave me to pursue mine in quiet.’

　　‘In quiet!’ repeated brother Charles mildly, and looking at himwith more of pity than reproach. ‘To pursue his way in quiet!’

　　‘You will scarcely remain in my house, I presume, sir, againstmy will,’ said Ralph; ‘or you can scarcely hope to make animpression upon a man who closes his ears to all that you can say,and is firmly and resolutely determined not to hear you.’

　　‘Mr Nickleby, sir,’ returned brother Charles: no less mildly thanbefore, but firmly too: ‘I come here against my will, sorely andgrievously against my will. I have never been in this house before;and, to speak my mind, sir, I don’t feel at home or easy in it, andhave no wish ever to be here again. You do not guess the subjecton which I come to speak to you; you do not indeed. I am sure ofthat, or your manner would be a very different one.’

　　  1075Ralph glanced keenly at him, but the clear eye and opencountenance of the honest old merchant underwent no change ofexpression, and met his look without reserve.

　　‘Shall I go on?’ said Mr Cheeryble.

　　‘Oh, by all means, if you please,’ returned Ralph drily. ‘Here arewalls to speak to, sir, a desk, and two stools: most attentiveauditors, and certain not to interrupt you. Go on, I beg; make myhouse yours, and perhaps by the time I return from my walk, youwill have finished what you have to say, and will yield me uppossession again.’

　　So saying, he buttoned his coat, and turning into the passage,took down his hat. The old gentleman followed, and was about tospeak, when Ralph waved him off impatiently, and said:

　　‘Not a word. I tell you, sir, not a word. Virtuous as you are, youare not an angel yet, to appear in men’s houses whether they willor no, and pour your speech into unwilling ears. Preach to thewalls I tell you; not to me!’

　　‘I am no angel, Heaven knows,’ returned brother Charles,shaking his head, ‘but an erring and imperfect man; nevertheless,there is one quality which all men have, in common with theangels, blessed opportunities of exercising, if they will; mercy. It isan errand of mercy that brings me here. Pray let me discharge it.’

　　‘I show no mercy,’ retorted Ralph with a triumphant smile, ‘andI ask none. Seek no mercy from me, sir, in behalf of the fellow whohas imposed upon your childish credulity, but let him expect theworst that I can do.’

　　‘He ask mercy at your hands!’ exclaimed the old merchantwarmly; ‘ask it at his, sir; ask it at his. If you will not hear me now,when you may, hear me when you must, or anticipate what I  1076would say, and take measures to prevent our ever meeting again.

　　Your nephew is a noble lad, sir, an honest, noble lad. What youare, Mr Nickleby, I will not say; but what you have done, I know.

　　Now, sir, when you go about the business in which you have beenrecently engaged, and find it difficult of pursuing, come to me andmy brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater, sir, and we’ll explain it foryou—and come soon, or it may be too late, and you may have itexplained with a little more roughness, and a little less delicacy—and never forget, sir, that I came here this morning, in mercy toyou, and am still ready to talk to you in the same spirit.’

　　With these words, uttered with great emphasis and emotion,brother Charles put on his broad-brimmed hat, and, passing RalphNickleby without any other remark, trotted nimbly into the street.

　　Ralph looked after him, but neither moved nor spoke for sometime: when he broke what almost seemed the silence ofstupefaction, by a scornful laugh.

　　‘This,’ he said, ‘from its wildness, should be another of thosedreams that have so broken my rest of late. In mercy to me! Pho!

　　The old simpleton has gone mad.’

　　Although he expressed himself in this derisive andcontemptuous manner, it was plain that, the more Ralphpondered, the more ill at ease he became, and the more helaboured under some vague anxiety and alarm, which increased asthe time passed on and no tidings of Newman Noggs arrived. Afterwaiting until late in the afternoon, tortured by variousapprehensions and misgivings, and the recollection of the warningwhich his nephew had given him when they last met: the furtherconfirmation of which now presented itself in one shape ofprobability, now in another, and haunted him perpetually: he left  1077home, and, scarcely knowing why, save that he was in a suspiciousand agitated mood, betook himself to Snawley’s house. His wifepresented herself; and, of her, Ralph inquired whether herhusband was at home.

　　‘No,’ she said sharply, ‘he is not indeed, and I don’t think he willbe at home for a very long time; that’s more.’

　　‘Do you know who I am?’ asked Ralph.

　　‘Oh yes, I know you very well; too well, perhaps, and perhaps hedoes too, and sorry am I that I should have to say it.’

　　‘Tell him that I saw him through the window-blind above, as Icrossed the road just now, and that I would speak to him onbusiness,’ said Ralph. ‘Do you hear?’

　　‘I hear,’ rejoined Mrs Snawley, taking no further notice of therequest.

　　‘I knew this woman was a hypocrite, in the way of psalms andScripture phrases,’ said Ralph, passing quietly by, ‘but I neverknew she drank before.’

　　‘Stop! You don’t come in here,’ said Mr Snawley’s better-half,interposing her person, which was a robust one, in the doorway.

　　‘You have said more than enough to him on business, before now.

　　I always told him what dealing with you and working out yourschemes would come to. It was either you or the schoolmaster—one of you, or the two between you—that got the forged letterdone; remember that! That wasn’t his doing, so don’t lay it at hisdoor.’

　　‘Hold your tongue, you Jezebel,’ said Ralph, looking fearfullyround.

　　‘Ah, I know when to hold my tongue, and when to speak, MrNickleby,’ retorted the dame. ‘Take care that other people know  1078when to hold theirs.’

　　‘You jade,’ said Ralph, ‘if your husband has been idiot enoughto trust you with his secrets, keep them; keep them, she-devil thatyou are!’

　　‘Not so much his secrets as other people’s secrets, perhaps,’

　　retorted the woman; ‘not so much his secrets as yours. None ofyour black looks at me! You’ll want ’em all, perhaps, for anothertime. You had better keep ’em.’

　　‘Will you,’ said Ralph, suppressing his passion as well as hecould, and clutching her tightly by the wrist; ‘will you go to yourhusband and tell him that I know he is at home, and that I mustsee him? And will you tell me what it is that you and he mean bythis new style of behaviour?’

　　‘No,’ replied the woman, violently disengaging herself, ‘I’ll doneither.’

　　‘You set me at defiance, do you?’ said Ralph.

　　‘Yes,’ was the answer. I do.’

　　For an instant Ralph had his hand raised, as though he wereabout to strike her; but, checking himself, and nodding his headand muttering as though to assure her he would not forget this,walked away.

　　Thence, he went straight to the inn which Mr Squeersfrequented, and inquired when he had been there last; in thevague hope that, successful or unsuccessful, he might, by thistime, have returned from his mission and be able to assure himthat all was safe. But Mr Squeers had not been there for ten days,and all that the people could tell about him was, that he had lefthis luggage and his bill.

　　Disturbed by a thousand fears and surmises, and bent upon  1079ascertaining whether Squeers had any suspicion of Snawley, orwas, in any way, a party to this altered behaviour, Ralphdetermined to hazard the extreme step of inquiring for him at theLambeth lodging, and having an interview with him even there.

　　Bent upon this purpose, and in that mood in which delay isinsupportable, he repaired at once to the place; and being, bydescription, perfectly acquainted with the situation of his room,crept upstairs and knocked gently at the door.

　　Not one, nor two, nor three, nor yet a dozen knocks, served toconvince Ralph, against his wish, that there was nobody inside. Hereasoned that he might be asleep; and, listening, almost persuadedhimself that he could hear him breathe. Even when he wassatisfied that he could not be there, he sat patiently on a brokenstair and waited; arguing, that he had gone out upon some slighterrand, and must soon return.

　　Many feet came up the creaking stairs; and the step of someseemed to his listening ear so like that of the man for whom hewaited, that Ralph often stood up to be ready to address him whenhe reached the top; but, one by one, each person turned off intosome room short of the place where he was stationed: and at everysuch disappointment he felt quite chilled and lonely.

　　At length he felt it was hopeless to remain, and goingdownstairs again, inquired of one of the lodgers if he knewanything of Mr Squeers’s movements—mentioning that worthy byan assumed name which had been agreed upon between them. Bythis lodger he was referred to another, and by him to someoneelse, from whom he learnt, that, late on the previous night, he hadgone out hastily with two men, who had shortly afterwardsreturned for the old woman who lived on the same floor; and that,  1080although the circumstance had attracted the attention of theinformant, he had not spoken to them at the time, nor made anyinquiry afterwards.

　　This possessed him with the idea that, perhaps, Peg Sliderskewhad been apprehended for the robbery, and that Mr Squeers,being with her at the time, had been apprehended also, onsuspicion of being a confederate. If this were so, the fact must beknown to Gride; and to Gride’s house he directed his steps; nowthoroughly alarmed, and fearful that there were indeed plots afoot,tending to his discomfiture and ruin.

　　Arrived at the usurer’s house, he found the windows close shut,the dingy blinds drawn down; all was silent, melancholy, anddeserted. But this was its usual aspect. He knocked—gently atfirst—then loud and vigorously. Nobody came. He wrote a fewwords in pencil on a card, and having thrust it under the door wasgoing away, when a noise above, as though a window-sash werestealthily raised, caught his ear, and looking up he could justdiscern the face of Gride himself, cautiously peering over thehouse parapet from the window of the garret. Seeing who wasbelow, he drew it in again; not so quickly, however, but that Ralphlet him know he was observed, and called to him to come down.

　　The call being repeated, Gride looked out again, so cautiouslythat no part of the old man’s body was visible. The sharp featuresand white hair appearing alone, above the parapet, looked like asevered head garnishing the wall.

　　‘Hush!’ he cried. ‘Go away, go away!’

　　‘Come down,’ said Ralph, beckoning him.

　　‘Go a-way!’ squeaked Gride, shaking his head in a sort ofecstasy of impatience. ‘Don’t speak to me, don’t knock, don’t call  1081attention to the house, but go away.’

　　‘I’ll knock, I swear, till I have your neighbours up in arms,’ saidRalph, ‘if you don’t tell me what you mean by lurking there, youwhining cur.’

　　‘I can’t hear what you say—don’t talk to me—it isn’t safe—goaway—go away!’ returned Gride.

　　‘Come down, I say. Will you come down?’ said Ralph fiercely.

　　‘No-o-o-oo,’ snarled Gride. He drew in his he............