At length the Captain decided, as the lesser of two evils, to run round to Brogley’s the Broker’s: previously locking the door that communicated with the upper part of the house, and putting the key in his pocket. “If so be,” said the Captain to Mr Toots, with not a little shame and hesitation, “as you’ll excuse my doing of it, brother.”
“Captain Gills,” returned Mr Toots, “whatever you do, is satisfactory to me.”
The Captain thanked him heartily, and promising to come back in less than five minutes, went out in quest of the person who had entrusted Mr Toots with this mysterious message. Poor Mr Toots, left to himself, lay down upon the sofa, little thinking who had reclined there last, and, gazing up at the skylight and resigning himself to visions of Miss Dombey, lost all heed of time and place.
It was as well that he did so; for although the Captain was not gone long, he was gone much longer than he had proposed. When he came back, he was very pale indeed, and greatly agitated, and even looked as if he had been shedding tears. He seemed to have lost the faculty of speech, until he had been to the cupboard and taken a dram of rum from the case-bottle, when he fetched a deep breath, and sat down in a chair with his hand before his face.
“Captain Gills,” said Toots, kindly, “I hope and trust there’s nothing wrong?”
“Thank’ee, my lad, not a bit,” said the Captain. “Quite contrairy.”
“You have the appearance of being overcome, Captain Gills,” observed Mr Toots.
“Why, my lad, I am took aback,” the Captain admitted. “I am.”
“Is there anything I can do, Captain Gills?” inquired Mr Toots. “If there is, make use of me.”
The Captain removed his hand from his face, looked at him with a remarkable expression of pity and tenderness, and took him by the hand, and shook it hard.