‘Damme!’ answered Dick, ‘that’s why I did it. I thought there was somebody dead here.’
‘You came for some purpose, I suppose,’ said Quilp. ‘What is it you want?’
‘I want to know how the old gentleman is,’ rejoined Mr Swiveller, ‘and to hear from Nell herself, with whom I should like to have a little talk. I’m a friend of the family, sir—at least I’m the friend of one of the family, and that’s the same thing.’
‘You’d better walk in then,’ said the dwarf. ‘Go on, sir, go on. Now, Mrs Quilp—after you, ma’am.’
Mrs Quilp hesitated, but Mr Quilp insisted. And it was not a contest of politeness, or by any means a matter of form, for she knew very well that her husband wished to enter the house in this order, that he might have a favourable opportunity of inflicting a few pinches on her arms, which were seldom free from impressions of his fingers in black and blue colours. Mr Swiveller, who was not in the secret, was a little surprised to hear a suppressed scream, and, looking round, to see Mrs Quilp following him with a sudden jerk; but he did not remark on these appearances, and soon forgot them.
‘Now, Mrs Quilp,’ said the dwarf when they had entered the shop, ‘go you up stairs, if you please, to Nelly’s room, and tell her that she’s wanted.’
‘You seem to make yourself at home here,’ said Dick, who was unacquainted with Mr Quilp’s authority.
‘I am at home, young gentleman,’ returned the dwarf.
Dick was pondering what these words might mean, and still more what the presence of Mr Brass might mean, when Mrs Quilp came hurrying down stairs, declaring that the rooms above were empty.
‘Empty, you fool!’ said the dwarf.