“Two,” interrupted Sam, “Mulberry agin all natur, for tears and willainy!”
“Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, “if I am to render myself intelligible to this gentleman, I must beg you to control your feelings.”
“Wery sorry, sir,” replied Mr. Weller; “but when I think o’ that ’ere Job, I can’t help opening the walve a inch or two.”
“In one word, sir,” said Mr. Pickwick, “is my servant right in suspecting that a certain Captain Fitz-Marshall is in the habit of visiting here? Because,” added Mr. Pickwick, as he saw that Mr. Nupkins was about to offer a very indignant interruption, “because, if he be, I know that person to be a——”
“Hush, hush!” said Mr. Nupkins, closing the door. “Know him to be what, sir?”
“An unprincipled adventurer—a dishonourable character—a man who preys upon society, and makes easily-deceived people his dupes, sir; his absurd, his foolish, his wretched dupes, sir,” said the excited Mr. Pickwick.
“Dear me,” said Mr. Nupkins, turning very red, and altering his whole manner directly. “Dear me, Mr. ——”
“Pickvick,” said Sam.
“Pickwick,” said the magistrate, “dear me, Mr. Pickwick—pray take a seat—you cannot mean this? Captain Fitz-Marshall?”
“Don’t call him a cap’en,” said Sam, “nor Fitz-Marshall neither; he ain’t neither one nor t’other. He’s a strolling actor, he is, and his name’s Jingle; and if ever there was a wolf in a mulberry suit, that ere Job Trotter’s him.”