BOOK THE THIRD: A LONG LANE
Chapter 17: A Social Chorus (continued)
It is a part of the true nobility of the poor gentleman's soul to say
this last sentence. 'Otherwise,' he has reffected, 'I shall assume the
superior position of having no difficulties of my own, while I know
of hers. Which would be mean, very mean.
'Was Mr Fledgeby's advocacy as effectual in your case as in ours?'
Mrs Lammle demands.
'As ineffectual.'
'Can you make up your mind to tell me where you saw Mr
Fledgeby, Mr Twemlow?'
'I beg your pardon. I fully intended to have done so. The
reservation was not intentional. I encountered Mr Fledgeby, quite
by accident, on the spot.--By the expression, on the spot, I mean at
Mr Riah's in Saint Mary Axe.'
'Have you the misfortune to be in Mr Riah's hands then?'
'Unfortunately, madam,' returns Twemlow, 'the one money
obligation to which I stand committed, the one debt of my life (but
it is a just debt; pray observe that I don't dispute it), has fallen into
Mr Riah's hands.'
'Mr Twemlow,' says Mrs Lammle, fixing his eyes with hers: which
he would prevent her doing if he could, but he can't; 'it has fallen
into Mr Fledgeby's hands. Mr Riah is his mask. It has fallen into
Mr Fledgeby's hands. Let me tell you that, for your guidance. The
information may be of use to you, if only to prevent your credulity,
in judging another man's truthfulness by your own, from being
imposed upon.'
'Impossible!' cries Twemlow, standing aghast. 'How do you
know it?'
'I scarcely know how I know it. The whole train of circumstances
seemed to take fire at once, and show it to me.'
'Oh! Then you have no proof.'
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