Our Mutual Friend · Book the Third · Chapter 3 14 (1/2)

XIV

Mr. Wegg Prepares a Grindstone for Mr. Boffin’s Nose

Having assisted at a few more expositions of the lives of misers, Mr. Venus became almost indispensable to the evenings at the Bower. The circumstance of having another listener to the wonders unfolded by Wegg, or, as it were, another calculator to cast up the guineas found in teapots, chimneys, racks and mangers, and other such banks of deposit, seemed greatly to heighten Mr. Boffin’s enjoyment; while Silas Wegg, for his part, though of a jealous temperament which might under ordinary circumstances have resented the anatomist’s getting into favour, was so very anxious to keep his eye on that gentleman⁠—lest, being too much left to himself, he should be tempted to play any tricks with the precious document in his keeping⁠—that he never lost an opportunity of commending him to Mr. Boffin’s notice as a third party whose company was much to be desired. Another friendly demonstration towards him Mr. Wegg now regularly gratified. After each sitting was over, and the patron had departed, Mr. Wegg invariably saw Mr. Venus home. To be sure, he as invariably requested to be refreshed with a sight of the paper in which he was a joint proprietor; but he never failed to remark that it was the great pleasure he derived from Mr. Venus’s improving society which had insensibly lured him round to Clerkenwell again, and that, finding himself once more attracted to the spot by the social powers of Mr. V., he would beg leave to go through that little incidental procedure, as a matter of form. “For well I know, sir,” Mr. Wegg would add, “that a man of your delicate mind would wish to be checked off whenever the opportunity arises, and it is not for me to baulk your feelings.”

A certain rustiness in Mr. Venus, which never became so lubricated by the oil of Mr. Wegg but that he turned under the screw in a creaking and stiff manner, was very noticeable at about this period. While assisting at the literary evenings, he even went so far, on two or three occasions, as to correct Mr. Wegg when he grossly mispronounced a word, or made nonsense of a passage; insomuch that Mr. Wegg took to surveying his course in the day, and to making arrangements for getting round rocks at night instead of running straight upon them. Of the slightest anatomical reference he became particularly shy, and, if he saw a bone ahead, would go any distance out of his way rather than mention it by name.

The adverse destinies ordained that one evening Mr. Wegg’s labouring bark became beset by polysyllables, and embarrassed among a perfect archipelago of hard words. It being necessary to take soundings every minute, and to feel the way with the greatest caution, Mr. Wegg’s attention was fully employed. Advantage was taken of this dilemma by Mr. Venus, to pass a scrap of paper into Mr. Boffin’s hand, and lay his finger on his own lip.

When Mr. Boffin got home at night he found that the paper contained Mr. Venus’s card and these words: “Should be glad to be honoured with a call respecting business of your own, about dusk on an early evening.”

The very next evening saw Mr. Boffin peeping in at the preserved frogs in Mr. Venus’s shopwindow, and saw Mr. Venus espying Mr. Boffin with the readiness of one on the alert, and beckoning that gentleman into his interior. Responding, Mr. Boffin was invited to seat himself on the box of human miscellanies before the fire, and did so, looking round the place with admiring eyes. The fire being low and fitful, and the dusk gloomy, the whole stock seemed to be winking and blinking with both eyes, as Mr. Venus did. The French gentleman, though he had no eyes, was not at all behindhand, but appeared, as the flame rose and fell, to open and shut his no eyes, with the regularity of the glass-eyed dogs and ducks and birds. The big-headed babies were equally obliging in lending their grotesque aid to the general effect.

“You see, Mr. Venus, I’ve lost no time,” said Mr. Boffin. “Here I am.”

“Here you are, sir,” assented Mr. Venus.

“I don’t like secrecy,” pursued Mr. Boffin⁠—“at least, not in a general way I don’t⁠—but I dare say you’ll show me good reason for being secret so far.”

“I think I shall, sir,” returned Venus.

“Good,” said Mr. Boffin. “You don’t expect Wegg, I take it for granted?”

“No, sir. I expect no one but the present company.”

Mr. Boffin glanced about him, as accepting under that inclusive denomination the French gentleman and the circle in which he didn’t move, and repeated, “The present company.”

“Sir,” said Mr. Venus, “before entering upon business, I shall have to ask you for your word and honour that we are in confidence.”

“Let’s wait a bit and understand what the expression means,” answered Mr. Boffin. “In confidence for how long? In confidence forever and a day?”

“I take your hint, sir,” said Venus; “you think you might consider the business, when you came to know it, to be of a nature incompatible with confidence on your part?”

“I might,” said Mr. Boffin with a cautious look.

“True, sir. Well, sir,” observed Venus, after clutching at his dusty hair, to brighten his ideas, “let us put it another way. I open the business with you, relying upon your honour not to do anything in it, and not to mention me in it, without my knowledge.”

“That sounds fair,” said Mr. Boffin. “I agree to that.”

“I have your word and honour, sir?”

“My good fellow,” retorted Mr. Boffin, “you have my word; and how you can have that, without my honour too, I don’t know. I’ve sorted a lot of dust in my time, but I never knew the two things go into separate heaps.”

This remark seemed rather to abash Mr. Venus. He hesitated, and said, “Very true, sir;” and again, “Very true, sir,” before resuming the thread of his discourse.

“Mr. Boffin, if I confess to you that I fell into a proposal of which you were the subject, and of which you oughtn’t to have been the subject, you will allow me to mention, and will please take into favourable consideration, that I was in a crushed state of mind at the time.”

The Golden Dustman, with his hands folded on the top of his stout stick, with his chin resting upon them, and with something leering and whimsical in his eyes, gave a nod, and said, “Quite so, Venus.”

“That proposal, sir, was a conspiring breach of your confidence, to such an extent, that I ought at once to have made it known to you. But I didn’t, Mr. Boffin, and I fell into it.”

Without moving eye or finger, Mr. Boffin gave another nod, and placidly repeated, “Quite so, Venus.”

“Not that I was ever hearty in it, sir,” the penitent anatomist went on, “or that I ever viewed myself with anything but reproach for having turned out of the paths of science into the paths of⁠—” he was going to say “villany,” but, unwilling to press too hard upon himself, substituted with great emphasis⁠—“Weggery.”

Placid and whimsical of look as ever, Mr. Boffin answered:

“Quite so, Venus.”

“And now, sir,” said Venus, “having prepared your mind in the rough, I will articulate the details.” With which brief professional exordium, he entered on the history of the friendly move, and truly recounted it. One might have thought that it would have extracted some show of surprise or anger, or other emotion, from Mr. Boffin, but it extracted nothing beyond his former comment:

“Quite so, Venus.”

“I have astonished you, sir, I believe?” said Mr. Venus, pausing dubiously.

Mr. Boffin simply answered as aforesaid: “Quite so, Venus.”

By this time the astonishment was all on the other side. It did not, however, so continue. For, when Venus passed to Wegg’s discovery, and from that to their having both seen Mr. Boffin dig up the Dutch bottle, that gentleman changed colour, changed his attitude, became extremely restless, and ended (when Venus ended) by being in a state of manifest anxiety, trepidation, and confusion.

“Now, sir,” said Venus, finishing off; “you best know what was in that Dutch bottle, and why you dug it up, and took it away. I don’t pretend to know anything more about it than I saw. All I know is this: I am proud of my calling after all (though it has been attended by one dreadful drawback which has told upon my heart, and almost equally upon my skeleton), and I mean to live by my calling. Putting the same meaning into other words, I do not mean to turn a single dishonest penny by this affair. As the best amends I can make you for having ever gone into it, I make known to you, as a warning, what Wegg has found out. My opinion is, that Wegg is not to be silenced at a modest price, and I build that opinion on his beginning to dispose of your property the moment he knew his power. Whether it’s worth your while to silence him at any price, you will decide for yourself, and take your measures accordingly. As far as I am concerned, I have no price. If I am ever called upon for the truth, I tell it, but I want to do no more than I have now done and ended.”

“Thank’ee, Venus!” said Mr. Boffin, with a hearty grip of his hand; “thank’ee, Venus, thank’ee, Venus!” And then walked up and down the little shop in great agitation. “But look here, Venus,” he by-and-by resumed, nervously sitting down again; “if I have to buy Wegg up, I shan’t buy him any cheaper for your being out of it. Instead of his having half the money⁠—it was to have been half, I suppose? Share and share alike?”

“It was to have been half, sir,” answered Venus.

“Instead of that, he’ll now have all. I shall pay the same, if not more. For you tell me he’s an unconscionable dog, a ravenous rascal.”

“He is,” said Venus.

“Don’t you think, Venus,” insinuated Mr. Boffin, after looking at the fire for a while⁠—“don’t you feel as if⁠—you might like to pretend to be in it till Wegg was bought up, and then ease your mind by handing over to me what you had made believe to pocket?”

“No I don’t, sir,” returned Venus, very positively.

“Not to make amends?” insinuated Mr. Boffin.

“No, sir. It seems to me, after maturely thinking it over, that the best amends for having got out of the square is to get back into the square.”

“Humph!” mused Mr. Boffin. “When you say the square, you mean⁠—”

“I mean,” said Venus, stoutly and shortly, “the right.”

“It appears to me,” said Mr. Boffin, grumbling over the fire in an injured manner, “that the right is with me, if it’s anywhere. I have much more right to the old man’s money than the Crown can ever have. What was the Crown to him except the King’s Taxes? Whereas, me and my wife, we was all in all to him.”

Mr. Venus, with his head upon his hands, rendered melancholy by the contemplation of Mr. Boffin’s avarice, only murmured to steep himself in the luxury of that frame of mind: “She did not wish so to regard herself, nor yet to be so regarded.”

“And how am I to live,” asked Mr. Boffin, piteously, “if I’m to be going buying fellows up out of the little that I’ve got? And how am I to set about it? When am I to get my money ready? When am I to make a bid? You haven’t told me when he threatens to drop down upon me.”

Venus explained under what conditions, and with what views, the dropping down upon Mr. Boffin was held over until the Mounds should be cleared away. Mr. Boffin listened attentively. “I suppose,” said he, with a gleam of hope, “there’s no doubt about the genuineness and date of this confounded will?”

“None whatever,” said Mr. Venus.

“Where might it be deposited at present?” asked Mr. Boffin, in a wheedling tone.

“It’s in my possession, sir.”

“Is it?” he cried, with great eagerness. “Now, for any liberal sum of money that could be agreed upon, Venus, would you put it in the fire?”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t,” interrupted Mr. Venus.

“Nor pass it over to me?”

“That would be the same thing. No, sir,” said Mr. Venus.

The Golden Dustman seemed about to pursue these questions, when a stumping noise was heard outside, coming towards the door. “Hush! here’s Wegg!” said Venus. “Get behind the young alligator in the corner, Mr. Boffin, and judge him for yourself. I won’t light a candle till he’s gone; there’ll only be the glow of the fire; Wegg’s well acquainted with the alligator, and he won’t take particular notice of him. Draw your legs in, Mr. Boffin, at present I see a pair of shoes at the end of his tail. Get your head well behind his smile, Mr. Boffin, and you’ll lie comfortable there; you’ll find plenty of room behind his smile. He’s a little dusty, but he’s very like you in tone. Are you right, sir?”

Mr. Boffin had but whispered an affirmative response, when Wegg came stumping in. “Partner,” said that gentleman in a sprightly manner, “how’s yourself?”

“Tolerable,” returned Mr. Venus. “Not much to boast of.”

“In‑deed!” said Wegg: “sorry, partner, that you’re not picking up faster, but your soul’s too large for your body, sir; that’s where it is. And how’s our stock in trade, partner? Safe bind, safe find, partner? Is that about it?”

“Do you wish to see it?” asked Venus.

“If you please, partner,” said Wegg, rubbing his hands. “I wish to see it jintly with yourself. Or, in similar words to some that was set to music some time back:

‘I wish you to see it with your eyes,

And I will pledge with mine.’ ”

Turning his back and turning a key, Mr. Venus produced the document, holding on by his usual corner. Mr. Wegg, holding on by the opposite corner, sat down on the seat so lately vacated by Mr. Boffin, and looked it over. “All right, sir,” he slowly and unwillingly admitted, in his reluctance to loose his hold, “all right!” And greedily watched his partner as he turned his back again, and turned his key again.

“There’s nothing new, I suppose?” said Venus, resuming his low chair behind the counter.

“Yes there is, sir,” replied Wegg; “there was something new this morning. That foxey old grasper and griper⁠—”

“Mr. Boffin?” inquired Venus, with a glance towards the alligator’s yard or two of smile.

“Mister be blowed!” cried Wegg, yielding to his honest indignation. “Boffin. Dusty Boffin. That foxey old grunter and grinder, sir, turns into the yard this morning, to meddle with our property, a menial tool of his own, a young man by the name of Sloppy. Ecod, when I say to him, ‘What do you want here, young man? This is a private yard,’ he pulls out a paper from Boffin’s other blackguard, the one I was passed over for. ‘This is to authorize Sloppy to overlook the carting and to watch the work.’ That’s pretty strong, I think, Mr. Venus?”

“Remember he doesn’t know yet of our claim on the property,” suggested Venus.

“Then he must have a hint of it,” said Wegg, “and a strong one that’ll jog his terrors a bit. Give him an inch, and he’ll take an ell. Let him alone this time, and what’ll he do with our property next? I tell you what, Mr. Venus; it comes to this; I must be overbearing with Boffin, or I shall fly into several pieces. I can’t contain myself when I look at him. Every time I see him putting his hand in his pocket, I see him putting it into my pocket. Every time I hear him jingling his money, I hear him taking liberties with my money. Flesh and blood can’t bear it. No,” said Mr. Wegg, greatly exasperated, “and I’ll go further. A wooden leg can’t bear it!”

“But, Mr. Wegg,” urged Venus, “it was your own idea that he should not be exploded upon, till the Mounds were carted away.”

“But it was likewise my idea, Mr. Venus,” retorted Wegg, “that if he came sneaking and sniffing about the property, he should be threatened, given to understand that he has no right to it, and be made our slave. Wasn’t that my idea, Mr. Venus?”

“It certainly was, Mr. Wegg.”

“It certainly was, as you say, partner,” assented Wegg, put into a better humour by the ready admission. “Very well. I consider his planting one of his menial tools in the yard, an act of sneaking and sniffing. And his nose shall be put to the grindstone for it.”

“It was not your fault, Mr. Wegg, I must admit,” said Venus, “that he got off with the Dutch bottle that night.”