told them how it had really happened: How Jonas
had intended to kill his father but how the latter's death had been due,
not to the poison which he had never taken, but to the knowledge of his
son's wickedness.

Jonas, in the reaction from his fear, laughed aloud, and was abusively
ordering them to leave, when the door opened and the color suddenly left
his cheeks. Policemen stood there, and at their head was Nadgett, the
spy.

In another moment there were handcuffs on his wrists and he knew not
only that the murder of Tigg had been discovered, but that every action
of his own on that fatal night had been traced and that he was surely
doomed to die on the gallows.

When he realized that he was lost he fell to the floor in pitiable fear.
They put him in a wagon to take him to jail, but when they arrived there
they found him motionless in his seat. He had swallowed some of his own
poison which he carried in his pocket, and was as dead as any hangman
could have made him.

Old Chuzzlewit had yet another purpose to carry out before he left
London, and for this purpose he asked Westlock to meet him in his rooms
at a certain time next day. He sent for Tom Pinch and his sister Ruth,
for his grandson Martin, and Mark Tapley, and last, but not least, for
Pecksniff himself, all to meet him there at the same hour.

All save Pecksniff arrived together, and greatly astonished most of them
were, you may be sure, to see old Chuzzlewit so changed. For now the
dull, bent look had vanished. His eyes were bright, his form erect and
every feature eager and full of purpose. Even Mary Graham scarcely knew
what to make of it.

As they sat wondering and waiting for old Chuzzlewit to speak, Pecksniff
came hurriedly in, to start back as if at a shock of electricity. But he
recovered himself, and clasped his hands with a look of pious joy to see
the old man safe and well. Then he looked around him and shook his
head.

"Oh, vermin! Oh, bloodsuckers!" he said. "Horde of unnatural plunderers
and robbers! Begone! Leave him and do not stay in a spot hallowed by the
gray hairs of this patriarchal gentleman!"

He advanced with outstretched arms, but he had not seen how tightly old
Chuzzlewit's hand clasped the walking-stick he held. The latter, in one
great burst of indignation, rose up, and with a single blow, stretched
him on the ground. Mark Tapley dragged him into a corner and propped him
against the wall, and in this ridiculous position, c