Martin sternly.

'You,' said the man, 'among others.'

Martin turned his scrutinizing gaze upon him. He was sitting lazily
across a chair with his arms resting on the back; eating nuts, and
throwing the shells out of window as he cracked them, which he still
continued to do while speaking.

'Aye,' he said, with a sulky nod. 'You may deny your nephews till you
die; but Chevy Slyme is Chevy Slyme still, all the world over. Perhaps
even you may feel it some disgrace to your own blood to be employed in
this way. I'm to be bought off.'

'At every turn!' cried Martin. 'Self, self, self. Every one among them
for himself!'

'You had better save one or two among them the trouble then and be for
them as well as YOURself,' replied his nephew. 'Look here at me! Can you
see the man of your family who has more talent in his little finger than
all the rest in their united brains, dressed as a police officer without
being ashamed? I took up with this trade on purpose to shame you. I
didn't think I should have to make a capture in the family, though.'

'If your debauchery, and that of your chosen friends, has really brought
you to this level,' returned the old man, 'keep it. You are living
honestly, I hope, and that's something.'

'Don't be hard upon my chosen friends,' returned Slyme, 'for they were
sometimes your chosen friends too. Don't say you never employed my
friend Tigg, for I know better. We quarrelled upon it.'

'I hired the fellow,' retorted Mr Chuzzlewit, 'and I paid him.'

'It's well you paid him,' said his nephew, 'for it would be too late to
do so now. He has given his receipt in full; or had it forced from him
rather.'

The old man looked at him as if he were curious to know what he meant,
but scorned to prolong the conversation.

'I have always expected that he and I would be brought together again in
the course of business,' said Slyme, taking a fresh handful of nuts from
his pocket; 'but I thought he would be wanted for some swindling job; it
never entered my head that I should hold a warrant for the apprehension
of his murderer.'

'HIS murderer!' cried Mr Chuzzlewit, looking from one to another.

'His or Mr Montague's,' said Nadgett. 'They are the same, I am told.
I accuse him yonder of the murder of Mr Montague, who was found last
night, killed, in a wood. You will ask me why I accuse him as you have
already asked me how I know so much. I'll tell you. It can't remain a
secret long.'

The ruling pas