and the baby, looking anxiously over her shoulder to see if Quilp were
following.

CHAPTER 49

Kit's mother might have spared herself the trouble of looking back so
often, for nothing was further from Mr Quilp's thoughts than any
intention of pursuing her and her son, or renewing the quarrel with
which they had parted. He went his way, whistling from time to time
some fragments of a tune; and with a face quite tranquil and composed,
jogged pleasantly towards home; entertaining himself as he went with
visions of the fears and terrors of Mrs Quilp, who, having received no
intelligence of him for three whole days and two nights, and having had
no previous notice of his absence, was doubtless by that time in a
state of distraction, and constantly fainting away with anxiety and
grief.

This facetious probability was so congenial to the dwarf's humour, and
so exquisitely amusing to him, that he laughed as he went along until
the tears ran down his cheeks; and more than once, when he found
himself in a bye-street, vented his delight in a shrill scream, which
greatly terrifying any lonely passenger, who happened to be walking on
before him expecting nothing so little, increased his mirth, and made
him remarkably cheerful and light-hearted.

In this happy flow of spirits, Mr Quilp reached Tower Hill, when,
gazing up at the window of his own sitting-room, he thought he descried
more light than is usual in a house of mourning. Drawing nearer, and
listening attentively, he could hear several voices in earnest
conversation, among which he could distinguish, not only those of his
wife and mother-in-law, but the tongues of men.

'Ha!' cried the jealous dwarf, 'What's this! Do they entertain
visitors while I'm away!'

A smothered cough from above, was the reply. He felt in his pockets
for his latch-key, but had forgotten it. There was no resource but to
knock at the door.

'A light in the passage,' said Quilp, peeping through the keyhole. 'A
very soft knock; and, by your leave, my lady, I may yet steal upon you
unawares. Soho!'

A very low and gentle rap received no answer from within. But after a
second application to the knocker, no louder than the first, the door
was softly opened by the boy from the wharf, whom Quilp instantly
gagged with one hand, and dragged into the street with the other.

'You'll throttle me, master,' whispered the boy. 'Let go, will you.'

'Who's up stairs, you dog?' retorted Quil