hese, dear madame, is it?' returned Rigaud. 'Faith, they are
friends of your son the prisoner. And what do they want here, is it?
Death, madame, I don't know. You will do well to ask them.'
'You know you told us at the door, not to go yet,' said Pancks.
'And you know you told me at the door, you didn't mean to go,' retorted
Rigaud. 'In a word, madame, permit me to present two spies of the
prisoner's--madmen, but spies. If you wish them to remain here during
our little conversation, say the word. It is nothing to me.'
'Why should I wish them to remain here?' said Mrs Clennam. 'What have I
to do with them?'
'Then, dearest madame,' said Rigaud, throwing himself into an arm-chair
so heavily that the old room trembled, 'you will do well to dismiss
them. It is your affair. They are not my spies, not my rascals.'
'Hark! You Pancks,' said Mrs Clennam, bending her brows upon him
angrily, 'you Casby's clerk! Attend to your employer's business and your
own. Go. And take that other man with you.' 'Thank you, ma'am,' returned
Mr Pancks, 'I am glad to say I see no objection to our both retiring.
We have done all we undertook to do for Mr Clennam. His constant anxiety
has been (and it grew worse upon him when he became a prisoner), that
this agreeable gentleman should be brought back here to the place from
which he slipped away. Here he is--brought back. And I will say,' added
Mr Pancks, 'to his ill-looking face, that in my opinion the world would
be no worse for his slipping out of it altogether.'
'Your opinion is not asked,' answered Mrs Clennam. 'Go.'
'I am sorry not to leave you in better company, ma'am,' said Pancks;
'and sorry, too, that Mr Clennam can't be present. It's my fault, that
is.'
'You mean his own,' she returned.
'No, I mean mine, ma'am,' said Pancks,'for it was my misfortune to lead
him into a ruinous investment.' (Mr Pancks still clung to that word,
and never said speculation.) 'Though I can prove by figures,' added Mr
Pancks, with an anxious countenance, 'that it ought to have been a good
investment. I have gone over it since it failed, every day of my life,
and it comes out--regarded as a question of figures--triumphant. The
present is not a time or place,' Mr Pancks pursued, with a longing
glance into his hat, where he kept his calculations, 'for entering upon
the figures; but the figures are not to be disputed. Mr Clennam ought to
have been at this moment in his carriage and pair, and I ought t
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