cerned that there was some secret reason for this
visit and his uncommon disappointment, and, in the hope that there
might be means of mischief lurking beneath it, resolved to worm it out.
He had no sooner adopted this resolution, than he conveyed as much
honesty into his face as it was capable of expressing, and sympathised
with Mr Swiveller exceedingly.

'I am disappointed myself,' said Quilp, 'out of mere friendly feeling
for them; but you have real reasons, private reasons I have no doubt,
for your disappointment, and therefore it comes heavier than mine.'

'Why, of course it does,' Dick observed, testily.

'Upon my word, I'm very sorry, very sorry. I'm rather cast down
myself. As we are companions in adversity, shall we be companions in
the surest way of forgetting it? If you had no particular business,
now, to lead you in another direction,' urged Quilp, plucking him by
the sleeve and looking slyly up into his face out of the corners of his
eyes, 'there is a house by the water-side where they have some of the
noblest Schiedam--reputed to be smuggled, but that's between
ourselves--that can be got in all the world. The landlord knows me.
There's a little summer-house overlooking the river, where we might
take a glass of this delicious liquor with a whiff of the best
tobacco--it's in this case, and of the rarest quality, to my certain
knowledge--and be perfectly snug and happy, could we possibly contrive
it; or is there any very particular engagement that peremptorily takes
you another way, Mr Swiveller, eh?'

As the dwarf spoke, Dick's face relaxed into a compliant smile, and his
brows slowly unbent. By the time he had finished, Dick was looking
down at Quilp in the same sly manner as Quilp was looking up at him,
and there remained nothing more to be done but to set out for the house
in question. This they did, straightway. The moment their backs were
turned, little Jacob thawed, and resumed his crying from the point
where Quilp had frozen him.

The summer-house of which Mr Quilp had spoken was a rugged wooden box,
rotten and bare to see, which overhung the river's mud, and threatened
to slide down into it. The tavern to which it belonged was a crazy
building, sapped and undermined by the rats, and only upheld by great
bars of wood which were reared against its walls, and had propped it up
so long that even they were decaying and yielding with their load, and
of a windy night might be heard to creak and