trange sorts of men, and I mean to
take care of myself.'

'Chuzzlewit!' replied Montague, leaning forward, with his arms upon his
knees, and looking full into his face. 'Strange things have been done,
and are done every day; not only in our way, but in a variety of other
ways; and no one suspects them. But ours, as you say, my good friend,
is a strange way; and we strangely happen, sometimes, to come into the
knowledge of very strange events.'

He beckoned to Jonas to bring his chair nearer; and looking slightly
round, as if to remind him of the presence of Nadgett, whispered in his
ear.

From red to white; from white to red again; from red to yellow; then to
a cold, dull, awful, sweat-bedabbled blue. In that short whisper, all
these changes fell upon the face of Jonas Chuzzlewit; and when at last
he laid his hand upon the whisperer's mouth, appalled, lest any syllable
of what he said should reach the ears of the third person present, it
was as bloodless and as heavy as the hand of Death.

He drew his chair away, and sat a spectacle of terror, misery, and
rage. He was afraid to speak, or look, or move, or sit still. Abject,
crouching, and miserable, he was a greater degradation to the form he
bore, than if he had been a loathsome wound from head to heel.

His companion leisurely resumed his dressing, and completed it, glancing
sometimes with a smile at the transformation he had effected, but never
speaking once.

'You'll not object,' he said, when he was quite equipped, 'to venture
further with us, Chuzzlewit, my friend?'

His pale lips faintly stammered out a 'No.'

'Well said! That's like yourself. Do you know I was thinking yesterday
that your father-in-law, relying on your advice as a man of great
sagacity in money matters, as no doubt you are, would join us, if the
thing were well presented to him. He has money?'

'Yes, he has money.'

'Shall I leave Mr Pecksniff to you? Will you undertake for Mr
Pecksniff.'

'I'll try. I'll do my best.'

'A thousand thanks,' replied the other, clapping him upon the shoulder.
'Shall we walk downstairs? Mr Nadgett! Follow us, if you please.'

They went down in that order. Whatever Jonas felt in reference to
Montague; whatever sense he had of being caged, and barred, and trapped,
and having fallen down into a pit of deepest ruin; whatever thoughts
came crowding on his mind even at that early time, of one terrible
chance of escape, of one red glimmer in a sky of black