heating his malice and mischievousness till
they boil. I'm always afraid to come here by myself, when his
account's a pretty large one. I don't believe he'd mind throttling me,
and dropping me softly into the river when the tide was at its
strongest, any more than he'd mind killing a rat--indeed I don't know
whether he wouldn't consider it a pleasant joke. Hark! Now he's
singing!'

Mr Quilp was certainly entertaining himself with vocal exercise, but it
was rather a kind of chant than a song; being a monotonous repetition
of one sentence in a very rapid manner, with a long stress upon the
last word, which he swelled into a dismal roar. Nor did the burden of
this performance bear any reference to love, or war, or wine, or
loyalty, or any other, the standard topics of song, but to a subject
not often set to music or generally known in ballads; the words being
these:--'The worthy magistrate, after remarking that the prisoner would
find some difficulty in persuading a jury to believe his tale,
committed him to take his trial at the approaching sessions; and
directed the customary recognisances to be entered into for the
pros-e-cu-tion.'

Every time he came to this concluding word, and had exhausted all
possible stress upon it, Quilp burst into a shriek of laughter, and
began again.

'He's dreadfully imprudent,' muttered Brass, after he had listened to
two or three repetitions of the chant. 'Horribly imprudent. I wish he
was dumb. I wish he was deaf. I wish he was blind. Hang him,' cried
Brass, as the chant began again. 'I wish he was dead!'

Giving utterance to these friendly aspirations in behalf of his client,
Mr Sampson composed his face into its usual state of smoothness, and
waiting until the shriek came again and was dying away, went up to the
wooden house, and knocked at the door.

'Come in!' cried the dwarf.

'How do you do to-night sir?' said Sampson, peeping in. 'Ha ha ha!
How do you do sir? Oh dear me, how very whimsical! Amazingly
whimsical to be sure!'

'Come in, you fool!' returned the dwarf, 'and don't stand there shaking
your head and showing your teeth. Come in, you false witness, you
perjurer, you suborner of evidence, come in!'

'He has the richest humour!' cried Brass, shutting the door behind him;
'the most amazing vein of comicality! But isn't it rather injudicious,
sir--?'

'What?' demanded Quilp. 'What, Judas?'

'Judas!' cried Brass. 'He has such extraordinary spirits!