not any that introduce themselves under that name and in that
capacity.'

'Haha! A portrait here, I see.'

(Still looking at Mr Flintwinch, as if he were the portrait.)

'It's a portrait, sir, as you observe.'

'May I ask the subject, Mr Flintwinch?'

'Mr Clennam, deceased. Her husband.' 'Former owner of the remarkable
watch, perhaps?' said the visitor.

Mr Flintwinch, who had cast his eyes towards the portrait, twisted
himself about again, and again found himself the subject of the same
look and smile. 'Yes, Mr Blandois,' he replied tartly. 'It was his, and
his uncle's before him, and Lord knows who before him; and that's all I
can tell you of its pedigree.'

'That's a strongly marked character, Mr Flintwinch, our friend
up-stairs.'

'Yes, sir,' said Jeremiah, twisting himself at the visitor again, as he
did during the whole of this dialogue, like some screw-machine that
fell short of its grip; for the other never changed, and he always
felt obliged to retreat a little. 'She is a remarkable woman. Great
fortitude--great strength of mind.'

'They must have been very happy,' said Blandois.

'Who?' demanded Mr Flintwinch, with another screw at him.

Mr Blandois shook his right forefinger towards the sick room, and his
left forefinger towards the portrait, and then, putting his arms akimbo
and striding his legs wide apart, stood smiling down at Mr Flintwinch
with the advancing nose and the retreating moustache.

'As happy as most other married people, I suppose,' returned Mr
Flintwinch. 'I can't say. I don't know. There are secrets in all
families.'

'Secrets!' cried Mr Blandois, quickly. 'Say it again, my son.'

'I say,' replied Mr Flintwinch, upon whom he had swelled himself so
suddenly that Mr Flintwinch found his face almost brushed by the dilated
chest. 'I say there are secrets in all families.'

'So there are,' cried the other, clapping him on both shoulders, and
rolling him backwards and forwards. 'Haha! you are right. So there are!
Secrets! Holy Blue! There are the devil's own secrets in some families,
Mr Flintwinch!' With that, after clapping Mr Flintwinch on both
shoulders several times, as if in a friendly and humorous way he were
rallying him on a joke he had made, he threw up his arms, threw back
his head, hooked his hands together behind it, and burst into a roar of
laughter. It was in vain for Mr Flintwinch to try another screw at him.
He had his laugh out.

'But, favour me with the cand