"I am very glad to see you, Captain Dobbin, sir," says he, after a

skulking look or two at his visitor (whose lanky figure and military

appearance caused some excitement likewise to twinkle in the blear eyes

of the waiter in the cracked dancing pumps, and awakened the old lady

in black, who dozed among the mouldy old coffee-cups in the bar). "How

is the worthy alderman, and my lady, your excellent mother, sir?" He

looked round at the waiter as he said, "My lady," as much as to say,

"Hark ye, John, I have friends still, and persons of rank and

reputation, too." "Are you come to do anything in my way, sir? My

young friends Dale and Spiggot do all my business for me now, until my

new offices are ready; for I'm only here temporarily, you know,

Captain. What can we do for you, sir? Will you like to take anything?"

Dobbin, with a great deal of hesitation and stuttering, protested that

he was not in the least hungry or thirsty; that he had no business to

transact; that he only came to ask if Mr. Sedley was well, and to shake

hands with an old friend; and, he added, with a desperate perversion of

truth, "My mother is very well--that is, she's been very unwell, and is

only waiting for the first fine day to go out and call upon Mrs.

Sedley. How is Mrs. Sedley, sir? I hope she's quite well." And here

he paused, reflecting on his own consummate hypocrisy; for the day was

as fine, and the sunshine as bright as it ever is in Coffin Court,

where the Tapioca Coffee-house is situated: and Mr. Dobbin remembered

that he had seen Mrs. Sedley himself only an hour before, having driven

Osborne down to Fulham in his gig, and left him there tete-a-tete with

Miss Amelia.

"My wife will be very happy to see her ladyship," Sedley replied,

pulling out his papers. "I've a very kind letter here from your

father, sir, and beg my respectful compliments to him. Lady D. will

find us in rather a smaller house than we were accustomed to receive

our friends in; but it's snug, and the change of air does good to my

daughter, who was suffering in town rather--you remember little Emmy,

sir?--yes, suffering a good deal." The old gentleman's eyes were

wandering as he spoke, and he was thinking of something else, as he

sate thrumming on his papers and fumbling at the worn red tape.

"You're a military man," he went on; "I ask you, Bill Dobbin, could any

man ever have speculated upon the return of that Corsican scoundrel

from Elba? When the allied sovereigns were here last year, and we gave

'em that dinner in the City, sir, and we saw the Temple of Concord, and

the fireworks, and the Chinese bridge in St. James's Park, could any

sensible man suppose that peace wasn't really concluded, after we'd

actually sung Te Deum for it, sir? I ask you, William, could I suppose

that the Emperor of Austria was a damned traitor--a traitor, and

nothing more? I don't mince words--a double-faced infernal traitor and

schemer, who meant to have his son-in-law back all along. And I say

that the escape of Boney from Elba was a damned imposition and plot,

sir, in which half the powers of Europe were concerned, to bring the

funds down, and to ruin this country. That's why I'm here, William.

That's why my name's in the Gazette. Why, sir?--because I trusted the

Emperor of Russia and the Prince Regent. Look here. Look at my

papers. Look what the funds were on the 1st of March--what the French

fives were when I bought for the count. And what they're at now.

There was collusion, sir, or that villain never would have escaped.

Where was the English Commissioner who allowed him to get away? He

ought to be shot, sir--brought to a court-martial, and shot, by Jove."




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