BOOK THE FIRST: THE CUP AND THE LIP
Chapter 12: The Sweat of an Honest Man's Brow (continued)
'What do you want?'
Hereunto the ghost again hoarsely replied, in its double-barrelled
manner, 'I ask your pardons, Governors, but might one on you be
Lawyer Lightwood?'
'One of us is,' said the owner of that name.
'All right, Governors Both,' returned the ghost, carefully closing the
room door; ''tickler business.'
Mortimer lighted the candles. They showed the visitor to be an ill-
looking visitor with a squinting leer, who, as he spoke, fumbled at
an old sodden fur cap, formless and mangey, that looked like a
furry animal, dog or cat, puppy or kitten, drowned and decaying.
'Now,' said Mortimer, 'what is it?'
'Governors Both,' returned the man, in what he meant to be a
wheedling tone, 'which on you might be Lawyer Lightwood?'
'I am.'
'Lawyer Lightwood,' ducking at him with a servile air, 'I am a man
as gets my living, and as seeks to get my living, by the sweat of my
brow. Not to risk being done out of the sweat of my brow, by any
chances, I should wish afore going further to be swore in.'
'I am not a swearer in of people, man.'
The visitor, clearly anything but reliant on this assurance, doggedly
muttered 'Alfred David.'
'Is that your name?' asked Lightwood.
'My name?' returned the man. 'No; I want to take a Alfred David.'
(Which Eugene, smoking and contemplating him, interpreted as
meaning Affidavit.)
'I tell you, my good fellow,' said Lightwood, with his indolent
laugh, 'that I have nothing to do with swearing.'
'He can swear AT you,' Eugene explained; 'and so can I. But we
can't do more for you.'
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