Chapter: Mr Meagles bestirred himself with such prompt activity in the matter of
the negotiation with Daniel Doyce which Clennam had entrusted to him,
    that he soon brought it into business train, and called on Clennam at
    nine o'clock one morning to make his report.

    'Doyce is highly gratified by your good opinion,' he opened the business
    by saying, 'and desires nothing so much as that you should examine the
    affairs of the Works for yourself, and entirely understand them. He has
    handed me the keys of all his books and papers--here they are jingling
    in this pocket--and the only charge he has given me is "Let Mr Clennam
    have the means of putting himself on a perfect equality with me as to
    knowing whatever I know. If it should come to nothing after all, he
    will respect my confidence. Unless I was sure of that to begin with, I
    should have nothing to do with him." And there, you see,' said Mr
    Meagles, 'you have Daniel Doyce all over.'

    'A very honourable character.'

    'Oh, yes, to be sure. Not a doubt of it. Odd, but very honourable. Very
    odd though. Now, would you believe, Clennam,' said Mr Meagles, with
    a hearty enjoyment of his friend's eccentricity, 'that I had a whole
    morning in What's-his-name Yard--'

    'Bleeding Heart?'

    'A whole morning in Bleeding Heart Yard, before I could induce him to
    pursue the subject at all?'

    'How was that?'

    'How was that, my friend? I no sooner mentioned your name in connection
    with it than he declared off.'

    'Declared off on my account?'

    'I no sooner mentioned your name, Clennam, than he said, "That will
    never do!" What did he mean by that? I asked him. No matter, Meagles;
    that would never do. Why would it never do? You'll hardly believe it,
    Clennam,' said Mr Meagles, laughing within himself, 'but it came out
    that it would never do, because you and he, walking down to Twickenham
    together, had glided into a friendly conversation in the course of which
    he had referred to his intention of taking a partner, supposing at the
    time that you were as firmly and finally settled as St Paul's Cathedral.
    "Whereas," says he, "Mr Clennam might now believe, if I entertained his
    proposition, that I had a sinister and designing motive in what was open
    free speech. Which I can't bear," says he, "which I really am too proud
    to bear."'

    'I should as soon suspect--'

    'Of course you would,' interrupted Mr Meagles, 'and so I told him. But
    it took a morning to scale that wall; and I doubt if any other man
    than myself (he likes me of old) could have got his leg over it. Well,
    Clennam. This business-like obstacle surmounted, he then stipulated that
    before resuming with you I should look over the books and form my own
    opinion. I looked over the books, and formed my own opinion. "Is it, on
    the whole, for, or against?" says he. "For," says I. "Then," says he,
    "you may now, my good friend, give Mr Clennam the means of forming
    his opinion. To enable him to do which, without bias and with perfect
    freedom, I shall go out of town for a week." And he's gone,' said Mr
    Meagles; 'that's the rich conclusion of the thing.'

    'Leaving me,' said Clennam, 'with a high sense, I must say, of his
    candour and his--'

    'Oddity,' Mr Meagles struck in. 'I should think so!'

    It was not exactly the word on Clennam's lips, but he forbore to
    interrupt his good-humoured friend.

    'And now,' added Mr Meagles, 'you can begin to look into matters as soon
    as you think proper. I have undertaken to explain where you may want
    explanation, but to be strictly impartial, and to do nothing more.'

    They began their perquisitions in Bleeding Heart Yard that same
    forenoon. Little peculiarities were easily to be detected by experienced
    eyes in Mr Doyce's way of managing his affairs, but they almost always
    involved some ingenious simplification of a difficulty, and some plain
    road to the desired end. That his papers were in arrear, and that he
    stood in need of assistance to develop the capacity of his business, was
    clear enough; but all the results of his undertakings during many years
    were distinctly set forth, and were ascertainable with ease. Nothing had
    been done for the purposes of the pending investigation; everything was
    in its genuine working dress, and in a certain honest rugged order. The
    calculations and entries, in his own hand, of which there were many,
    were bluntly written, and with no very neat precision; but were always
    plain and directed straight to the purpose. It occurred to Arthur that
    a far more elaborate and taking show of business--such as the records of
    the Circumlocution Office made perhaps--might be far less serviceable,
    as being meant to be far less intelligible.

    Three or four days of steady application tendered him master of all the
    facts it was essential to become acquainted with. Mr Meagles was at hand
    the whole time, always ready to illuminate any dim place with the bright
    little safety-lamp belonging to the scales and scoop. Between them they
    agreed upon the sum it would be fair to offer for the purchase of a
    half-share in the business, and then Mr Meagles unsealed a paper in
    which Daniel Doyce had noted the amount at which he valued it; which was
    even something less. Thus, when Daniel came back, he found the affair as
    good as concluded.

    'And I may now avow, Mr Clennam,' said he, with a cordial shake of the
    hand, 'that if I had looked high and low for a partner, I believe I
    could not have found one more to my mind.'

    'I say the same,' said Clennam.

    'And I say of both of you,' added Mr Meagles, 'that you are well
    matched. You keep him in check, Clennam, with your common sense, and you
    stick to the Works, Dan, with your--'

    'Uncommon sense?' suggested Daniel, with his quiet smile.

    'You may call it so, if you like--and each of you will be a right hand
    to the other. Here's my own right hand upon it, as a practical man, to
    both of you.'

    The purchase was completed within a month. It left Arthur in possession
    of private personal means not exceeding a few hundred pounds; but it
    opened to him an active and promising career. The three friends dined
    together on the auspicious occasion; the factory and the factory wives
    and children made holiday and dined too; even Bleeding Heart Yard
    dined and was full of meat. Two months had barely gone by in all, when
    Bleeding Heart Yard had become so familiar with short-commons again,
    that the treat was forgotten there; when nothing seemed new in the
    partnership but the paint of the inscription on the door-posts, DOYCE
    AND CLENNAM; when it appeared even to Clennam himself, that he had had
    the affairs of the firm in his mind for years.

    The little counting-house reserved for his own occupation, was a room of
    wood and glass at the end of a long low workshop, filled with benches,
    and vices, and tools, and straps, and wheels; which, when they were
    in gear with the steam-engine, went tearing round as though they had a
    suicidal mission to grind the business to dust and tear the factory to
    pieces. A communication of great trap-doors in the floor and roof with
    the workshop above and the workshop below, made a shaft of light in
    this perspective, which brought to Clennam's mind the child's old
    picture-book, where similar rays were the witnesses of Abel's
    murder. The noises were sufficiently removed and shut out from the
    counting-house to blend into a busy hum, interspersed with periodical
    clinks and thumps. The patient figures at work were swarthy with the
    filings of iron and steel that danced on every bench and bubbled up
    through every chink in the planking. The workshop was arrived at by a
    step-ladder from the outer yard below, where it served as a shelter for
    the large grindstone where tools were sharpened. The whole had at once
    a fanciful and practical air in Clennam's eyes, which was a welcome
    change; and, as often as he raised them from his first work of getting
    the array of business documents into perfect order, he glanced at these
    things with a feeling of pleasure in his pursuit that was new to him.

    Raising his eyes thus one day, he was surprised to see a bonnet
    labouring up the step-ladder. The unusual apparition was followed by
    another bonnet. He then perceived that the first bonnet was on the head
    of Mr F.'s Aunt, and that the second bonnet was on the head of Flora,
    who seemed to have propelled her legacy up the steep ascent with
    considerable difficulty.

    Though not altogether enraptured at the sight of these visitors, Clennam
    lost no time in opening the counting-house door, and extricating them
    from the workshop; a rescue which was rendered the more necessary by Mr
    F.'s Aunt already stumbling over some impediment, and menacing steam
    power as an Institution with a stony reticule she carried.

    'Good gracious, Arthur,--I should say Mr Clennam, far more proper--the
    climb we have had to get up here and how ever to get down again without
    a fire-escape and Mr F.'s Aunt slipping through the steps and bruised
    all over and you in the machinery and foundry way too only think, and
    never told us!'

    Thus, Flora, out of breath. Meanwhile, Mr F.'s Aunt rubbed her esteemed
    insteps with her umbrella, and vindictively glared.

    'Most unkind never to have come back to see us since that day, though
    naturally it was not to be expected that there should be any attraction
    at _our_ house and you were much more pleasantly engaged, that's pretty
    certain, and is she fair or dark blue eyes or black I wonder, not that
    I expect that she should be anything but a perfect contrast to me in all
    particulars for I am a disappointment as I very well know and you are
    quite right to be devoted no doubt though what I am saying Arthur never
    mind I hardly know myself Good gracious!'

    By this time he had placed chairs for them in the counting-house. As
    Flora dropped into hers, she bestowed the old look upon him.

    'And to think of Doyce and Clennam, and who Doyce can be,' said Flora;
    'delightful man no doubt and married perhaps or perhaps a daughter, now
    has he really? then one understands the partnership and sees it all,
    don't tell me anything about it for I know I have no claim to ask the
    question the golden chain that once was forged being snapped and very
    proper.'

    Flora put her hand tenderly on his, and gave him another of the youthful
    glances.

    'Dear Arthur--force of habit, Mr Clennam every way more delicate and
    adapted to existing circumstances--I must beg to be excused for taking
    the liberty of this intrusion but I thought I might so far presume upon
    old times for ever faded never more to bloom as to call with Mr F.'s
    Aunt to congratulate and offer best wishes, A great deal superior to
    China not to be denied and much nearer though higher up!'

    'I am very happy to see you,' said Clennam, 'and I thank you, Flora,
    very much for your kind remembrance.'

    'More than I can say myself at any rate,' returned Flora, 'for I might
    have been dead and buried twenty distinct times over and no doubt
    whatever should have been before you had genuinely remembered Me or
    anything like it in spite of which one last remark I wish to make, one
    last explanation I wish to offer--'

    'My dear Mrs Finching,' Arthur remonstrated in alarm.

    'Oh not that disagreeable name, say Flora!'

    'Flora, is it worth troubling yourself afresh to enter into
    explanations? I assure you none are needed. I am satisfied--I am
    perfectly satisfied.'

    A diversion was occasioned here, by Mr F.'s Aunt making the following
    inexorable and awful statement:

    'There's mile-stones on the Dover road!'

    With such mortal hostility towards the human race did she discharge this
    missile, that Clennam was quite at a loss how to defend himself; the
    rather as he had been already perplexed in his mind by the honour of a
    visit from this venerable lady, when it was plain she held him in the
    utmost abhorrence. He could not but look at her with disconcertment, as
    she sat breathing bitterness and scorn, and staring leagues away. Flora,
    however, received the remark as if it had been of a most apposite and
    agreeable nature; approvingly observing aloud that Mr F.'s Aunt had a
    great deal of spirit. Stimulated either by this compliment, or by her
    burning indignation, that illustrious woman then added, 'Let him meet
    it if he can!' And, with a rigid movement of her stony reticule (an
            appendage of great size and of a fossil appearance), indicated that
    Clennam was the unfortunate person at whom the challenge was hurled.

    'One last remark,' resumed Flora, 'I was going to say I wish to make one
    last explanation I wish to offer, Mr F.'s Aunt and myself would not have
    intruded on business hours Mr F. having been in business and though the
    wine trade still business is equally business call it what you will and
    business habits are just the same as witness Mr F. himself who had his
    slippers always on the mat at ten minutes before six in the afternoon
    and his boots inside the fender at ten minutes before eight in the
    morning to the moment in all weathers light or dark--would not therefore
    have intruded without a motive which being kindly meant it may be hoped
    will be kindly taken Arthur, Mr Clennam far more proper, even Doyce and
    Clennam probably more business-like.'

    'Pray say nothing in the way of apology,' Arthur entreated. 'You are
    always welcome.'

    'Very polite of you to say so Arthur--cannot remember Mr Clennam until
    the word is out, such is the habit of times for ever fled, and so true
    it is that oft in the stilly night ere slumber's chain has bound people,
    fond memory brings the light of other days around people--very polite
    but more polite than true I am afraid, for to go into the machinery
    business without so much as sending a line or a card to papa--I don't
    say me though there was a time but that is past and stern reality has
    now my gracious never mind--does not look like it you must confess.'

    Even Flora's commas seemed to have fled on this occasion; she was so
    much more disjointed and voluble than in the preceding interview.

    'Though indeed,' she hurried on, 'nothing else is to be expected and why
    should it be expected and if it's not to be expected why should it be,
    and I am far from blaming you or any one, When your mama and my papa
    worried us to death and severed the golden bowl--I mean bond but I dare
    say you know what I mean and if you don't you don't lose much and care
    just as little I will venture to add--when they severed the golden bond
    that bound us and threw us into fits of crying on the sofa nearly choked
    at least myself everything was changed and in giving my hand to Mr F. I
    know I did so with my eyes open but he was so very unsettled and in such
    low spirits that he had distractedly alluded to the river if not oil of
    something from the chemist's and I did it for the best.'

    'My good Flora, we settled that before. It was all quite right.'

    'It's perfectly clear you think so,' returned Flora, 'for you take it
    very coolly, if I hadn't known it to be China I should have guessed
    myself the Polar regions, dear Mr Clennam you are right however and I
    cannot blame you but as to Doyce and Clennam papa's property being about
    here we heard it from Pancks and but for him we never should have heard
    one word about it I am satisfied.'

    'No, no, don't say that.'

    'What nonsense not to say it Arthur--Doyce and Clennam--easier and less
    trying to me than Mr Clennam--when I know it and you know it too and
    can't deny it.'

    'But I do deny it, Flora. I should soon have made you a friendly visit.'

    'Ah!' said Flora, tossing her head. 'I dare say!' and she gave him
    another of the old looks. 'However when Pancks told us I made up my mind
    that Mr F.'s Aunt and I would come and call because when papa--which was
    before that--happened to mention her name to me and to say that you were
    interested in her I said at the moment Good gracious why not have her
    here then when there's anything to do instead of putting it out.'

    'When you say Her,' observed Clennam, by this time pretty well
    bewildered, 'do you mean Mr F.'s--'

    'My goodness, Arthur--Doyce and Clennam really easier to me with old
    remembrances--who ever heard of Mr F.'s Aunt doing needlework and going
    out by the day?'

    'Going out by the day! Do you speak of Little Dorrit?'

    'Why yes of course,' returned Flora; 'and of all the strangest names I
    ever heard the strangest, like a place down in the country with a
    turnpike, or a favourite pony or a puppy or a bird or something from a
    seed-shop to be put in a garden or a flower-pot and come up speckled.'

    'Then, Flora,' said Arthur, with a sudden interest in the conversation,
    'Mr Casby was so kind as to mention Little Dorrit to you, was he? What
    did he say?'

    'Oh you know what papa is,' rejoined Flora, 'and how aggravatingly he
    sits looking beautiful and turning his thumbs over and over one another
    till he makes one giddy if one keeps one's eyes upon him, he said when
    we were talking of you--I don't know who began the subject Arthur (Doyce
            and Clennam) but I am sure it wasn't me, at least I hope not but you
    really must excuse my confessing more on that point.'

    'Certainly,' said Arthur. 'By all means.'

    'You are very ready,' pouted Flora, coming to a sudden stop in a
    captivating bashfulness, 'that I must admit, Papa said you had spoken of
    her in an earnest way and I said what I have told you and that's all.'

    'That's all?' said Arthur, a little disappointed.

    'Except that when Pancks told us of your having embarked in this
    business and with difficulty persuaded us that it was really you I said
    to Mr F.'s Aunt then we would come and ask you if it would be agreeable
    to all parties that she should be engaged at our house when required
    for I know she often goes to your mama's and I know that your mama has
    a very touchy temper Arthur--Doyce and Clennam--or I never might have
    married Mr F. and might have been at this hour but I am running into
    nonsense.'

    'It was very kind of you, Flora, to think of this.'

    Poor Flora rejoined with a plain sincerity which became her better than
    her youngest glances, that she was glad he thought so. She said it with
    so much heart that Clennam would have given a great deal to buy his
    old character of her on the spot, and throw it and the mermaid away for
    ever.

    'I think, Flora,' he said, 'that the employment you can give Little
    Dorrit, and the kindness you can show her--'

    'Yes and I will,' said Flora, quickly.

    'I am sure of it--will be a great assistance and support to her. I do
    not feel that I have the right to tell you what I know of her, for I
    acquired the knowledge confidentially, and under circumstances that
    bind me to silence. But I have an interest in the little creature, and
    a respect for her that I cannot express to you. Her life has been one
    of such trial and devotion, and such quiet goodness, as you can scarcely
    imagine. I can hardly think of her, far less speak of her, without
    feeling moved. Let that feeling represent what I could tell you, and
    commit her to your friendliness with my thanks.'

    Once more he put out his hand frankly to poor Flora; once more poor
    Flora couldn't accept it frankly, found it worth nothing openly, must
    make the old intrigue and mystery of it. As much to her own enjoyment as
    to his dismay, she covered it with a corner of her shawl as she took it.
    Then, looking towards the glass front of the counting-house, and seeing
    two figures approaching, she cried with infinite relish, 'Papa! Hush,
    Arthur, for Mercy's sake!' and tottered back to her chair with an
    amazing imitation of being in danger of swooning, in the dread surprise
    and maidenly flutter of her spirits.

    The Patriarch, meanwhile, came inanely beaming towards the
    counting-house in the wake of Pancks. Pancks opened the door for him,
    towed him in, and retired to his own moorings in a corner.

    'I heard from Flora,' said the Patriarch with his benevolent smile,
    'that she was coming to call, coming to call. And being out, I thought
    I'd come also, thought I'd come also.'

    The benign wisdom he infused into this declaration (not of itself
            profound), by means of his blue eyes, his shining head, and his long
    white hair, was most impressive. It seemed worth putting down among the
    noblest sentiments enunciated by the best of men. Also, when he said to
    Clennam, seating himself in the proffered chair, 'And you are in a new
    business, Mr Clennam? I wish you well, sir, I wish you well!' he seemed
    to have done benevolent wonders.

    'Mrs Finching has been telling me, sir,' said Arthur, after making his
    acknowledgments; the relict of the late Mr F. meanwhile protesting, with
    a gesture, against his use of that respectable name; 'that she hopes
    occasionally to employ the young needlewoman you recommended to my
    mother. For which I have been thanking her.'

    The Patriarch turning his head in a lumbering way towards Pancks, that
    assistant put up the note-book in which he had been absorbed, and took
    him in tow.

    'You didn't recommend her, you know,' said Pancks; 'how could you? You
    knew nothing about her, you didn't. The name was mentioned to you, and
    you passed it on. That's what _you_ did.'

    'Well!' said Clennam. 'As she justifies any recommendation, it is much
    the same thing.'

    'You are glad she turns out well,' said Pancks, 'but it wouldn't have
    been your fault if she had turned out ill. The credit's not yours as it
    is, and the blame wouldn't have been yours as it might have been. You
    gave no guarantee. You knew nothing about her.'

    'You are not acquainted, then,' said Arthur, hazarding a random question,
    'with any of her family?'

    'Acquainted with any of her family?' returned Pancks. 'How should you be
    acquainted with any of her family? You never heard of 'em. You can't
    be acquainted with people you never heard of, can you? You should think
    not!'

    All this time the Patriarch sat serenely smiling; nodding or shaking his
    head benevolently, as the case required.

    'As to being a reference,' said Pancks, 'you know, in a general way,
    what being a reference means. It's all your eye, that is! Look at your
    tenants down the Yard here. They'd all be references for one another,
    if you'd let 'em. What would be the good of letting 'em? It's no
    satisfaction to be done by two men instead of one. One's enough. A
    person who can't pay, gets another person who can't pay, to guarantee
    that he can pay. Like a person with two wooden legs getting another
    person with two wooden legs, to guarantee that he has got two natural
    legs. It don't make either of them able to do a walking match. And four
    wooden legs are more troublesome to you than two, when you don't want
    any.' Mr Pancks concluded by blowing off that steam of his.

    A momentary silence that ensued was broken by Mr F.'s Aunt, who had been
    sitting upright in a cataleptic state since her last public remark. She
    now underwent a violent twitch, calculated to produce a startling effect
    on the nerves of the uninitiated, and with the deadliest animosity
    observed:

    'You can't make a head and brains out of a brass knob with nothing in
    it. You couldn't do it when your Uncle George was living; much less when
    he's dead.'

    Mr Pancks was not slow to reply, with his usual calmness, 'Indeed,
    ma'am! Bless my soul! I'm surprised to hear it.' Despite his presence of
    mind, however, the speech of Mr F.'s Aunt produced a depressing effect
    on the little assembly; firstly, because it was impossible to disguise
    that Clennam's unoffending head was the particular temple of reason
    depreciated; and secondly, because nobody ever knew on these occasions
    whose Uncle George was referred to, or what spectral presence might be
    invoked under that appellation.

    Therefore Flora said, though still not without a certain boastfulness
    and triumph in her legacy, that Mr F.'s Aunt was 'very lively to-day,
    and she thought they had better go.' But Mr F.'s Aunt proved so lively
    as to take the suggestion in unexpected dudgeon and declare that she
    would not go; adding, with several injurious expressions, that if
    'He'--too evidently meaning Clennam--wanted to get rid of her, 'let
    him chuck her out of winder;' and urgently expressing her desire to see
    'Him' perform that ceremony.

    In this dilemma, Mr Pancks, whose resources appeared equal to any
    emergency in the Patriarchal waters, slipped on his hat, slipped out at
    the counting-house door, and slipped in again a moment afterwards with
    an artificial freshness upon him, as if he had been in the country for
    some weeks. 'Why, bless my heart, ma'am!' said Mr Pancks, rubbing up his
    hair in great astonishment, 'is that you? How do you _do_, ma'am? You
    are looking charming to-day! I am delighted to see you. Favour me with
    your arm, ma'am; we'll have a little walk together, you and me, if
    you'll honour me with your company.' And so escorted Mr F.'s Aunt down
    the private staircase of the counting-house with great gallantry and
    success. The patriarchal Mr Casby then rose with the air of having done
    it himself, and blandly followed: leaving his daughter, as she followed
    in her turn, to remark to her former lover in a distracted whisper
    (which she very much enjoyed), that they had drained the cup of life to
    the dregs; and further to hint mysteriously that the late Mr F. was at
    the bottom of it.

    Alone again, Clennam became a prey to his old doubts in reference to his
    mother and Little Dorrit, and revolved the old thoughts and suspicions.
    They were all in his mind, blending themselves with the duties he was
    mechanically discharging, when a shadow on his papers caused him to look
    up for the cause. The cause was Mr Pancks. With his hat thrown back upon
    his ears as if his wiry prongs of hair had darted up like springs and
    cast it off, with his jet-black beads of eyes inquisitively sharp, with
    the fingers of his right hand in his mouth that he might bite the nails,
    and with the fingers of his left hand in reserve in his pocket for
    another course, Mr Pancks cast his shadow through the glass upon the
    books and papers.

    Mr Pancks asked, with a little inquiring twist of his head, if he
    might come in again? Clennam replied with a nod of his head in the
    affirmative. Mr Pancks worked his way in, came alongside the desk, made
    himself fast by leaning his arms upon it, and started conversation with
    a puff and a snort.

    'Mr F.'s Aunt is appeased, I hope?' said Clennam.

    'All right, sir,' said Pancks.

    'I am so unfortunate as to have awakened a strong animosity in the
    breast of that lady,' said Clennam. 'Do you know why?'

    'Does _she_ know why?' said Pancks.

    'I suppose not.'

    '_I_ suppose not,' said Pancks.

    He took out his note-book, opened it, shut it, dropped it into his hat,
    which was beside him on the desk, and looked in at it as it lay at the
    bottom of the hat: all with a great appearance of consideration.

    'Mr Clennam,' he then began, 'I am in want of information, sir.'

    'Connected with this firm?' asked Clennam.

    'No,' said Pancks.

    'With what then, Mr Pancks? That is to say, assuming that you want it of
    me.'

    'Yes, sir; yes, I want it of you,' said Pancks, 'if I can persuade you
    to furnish it. A, B, C, D. DA, DE, DI, DO. Dictionary order. Dorrit.
    That's the name, sir?'

    Mr Pancks blew off his peculiar noise again, and fell to at his
    right-hand nails. Arthur looked searchingly at him; he returned the
    look.

    'I don't understand you, Mr Pancks.'

    'That's the name that I want to know about.'

    'And what do you want to know?'

    'Whatever you can and will tell me.' This comprehensive summary of his
    desires was not discharged without some heavy labouring on the part of
    Mr Pancks's machinery.

    'This is a singular visit, Mr Pancks. It strikes me as rather
    extraordinary that you should come, with such an object, to me.'

    'It may be all extraordinary together,' returned Pancks. 'It may be out
    of the ordinary course, and yet be business. In short, it is business. I
    am a man of business. What business have I in this present world, except
    to stick to business? No business.'

    With his former doubt whether this dry hard personage were quite in
    earnest, Clennam again turned his eyes attentively upon his face. It
    was as scrubby and dingy as ever, and as eager and quick as ever, and he
    could see nothing lurking in it that was at all expressive of a latent
    mockery that had seemed to strike upon his ear in the voice.

    'Now,' said Pancks, 'to put this business on its own footing, it's not
    my proprietor's.'

    'Do you refer to Mr Casby as your proprietor?'

    Pancks nodded. 'My proprietor. Put a case. Say, at my proprietor's I
    hear name--name of young person Mr Clennam wants to serve. Say, name
    first mentioned to my proprietor by Plornish in the Yard. Say, I go to
    Plornish. Say, I ask Plornish as a matter of business for information.
    Say, Plornish, though six weeks in arrear to my proprietor, declines.
    Say, Mrs Plornish declines. Say, both refer to Mr Clennam. Put the
    case.'

    'Well?'

    'Well, sir,' returned Pancks, 'say, I come to him. Say, here I am.'

    With those prongs of hair sticking up all over his head, and his breath
    coming and going very hard and short, the busy Pancks fell back a step
    (in Tug metaphor, took half a turn astern) as if to show his dingy hull
    complete, then forged a-head again, and directed his quick glance by
    turns into his hat where his note-book was, and into Clennam's face.

    'Mr Pancks, not to trespass on your grounds of mystery, I will be as
    plain with you as I can. Let me ask two questions. First--'

    'All right!' said Pancks, holding up his dirty forefinger with his
    broken nail. 'I see! "What's your motive?"'

    'Exactly.'

    'Motive,' said Pancks, 'good. Nothing to do with my proprietor; not
    stateable at present, ridiculous to state at present; but good.
    Desiring to serve young person, name of Dorrit,' said Pancks, with his
    forefinger still up as a caution. 'Better admit motive to be good.'

    'Secondly, and lastly, what do you want to know?'

    Mr Pancks fished up his note-book before the question was put, and
    buttoning it with care in an inner breast-pocket, and looking straight
    at Clennam all the time, replied with a pause and a puff, 'I want
    supplementary information of any sort.'

    Clennam could not withhold a smile, as the panting little steam-tug, so
    useful to that unwieldy ship, the Casby, waited on and watched him as if
    it were seeking an opportunity of running in and rifling him of all he
    wanted before he could resist its manoeuvres; though there was that in
    Mr Pancks's eagerness, too, which awakened many wondering speculations
    in his mind. After a little consideration, he resolved to supply Mr
    Pancks with such leading information as it was in his power to impart
    him; well knowing that Mr Pancks, if he failed in his present research,
    was pretty sure to find other means of getting it.

    He, therefore, first requesting Mr Pancks to remember his voluntary
    declaration that his proprietor had no part in the disclosure, and that
    his own intentions were good (two declarations which that coaly little
            gentleman with the greatest ardour repeated), openly told him that as to
    the Dorrit lineage or former place of habitation, he had no information
    to communicate, and that his knowledge of the family did not extend
    beyond the fact that it appeared to be now reduced to five members;
    namely, to two brothers, of whom one was single, and one a widower with
    three children. The ages of the whole family he made known to Mr Pancks,
    as nearly as he could guess at them; and finally he described to him
    the position of the Father of the Marshalsea, and the course of time and
    events through which he had become invested with that character. To
    all this, Mr Pancks, snorting and blowing in a more and more portentous
    manner as he became more interested, listened with great attention;
    appearing to derive the most agreeable sensations from the painfullest
    parts of the narrative, and particularly to be quite charmed by the
    account of William Dorrit's long imprisonment.

    'In conclusion, Mr Pancks,' said Arthur, 'I have but to say this. I have
    reasons beyond a personal regard for speaking as little as I can of the
    Dorrit family, particularly at my mother's house' (Mr Pancks nodded),
    'and for knowing as much as I can. So devoted a man of business as you
    are--eh?'

    For Mr Pancks had suddenly made that blowing effort with unusual force.

    'It's nothing,' said Pancks.

    'So devoted a man of business as yourself has a perfect understanding of
    a fair bargain. I wish to make a fair bargain with you, that you shall
    enlighten me concerning the Dorrit family when you have it in your
    power, as I have enlightened you. It may not give you a very flattering
    idea of my business habits, that I failed to make my terms beforehand,'
    continued Clennam; 'but I prefer to make them a point of honour. I have
    seen so much business done on sharp principles that, to tell you the
    truth, Mr Pancks, I am tired of them.'

    Mr Pancks laughed. 'It's a bargain, sir,' said he. 'You shall find me
    stick to it.'

    After that, he stood a little while looking at Clennam, and biting his
    ten nails all round; evidently while he fixed in his mind what he had
    been told, and went over it carefully, before the means of supplying a
    gap in his memory should be no longer at hand. 'It's all right,' he said
    at last, 'and now I'll wish you good day, as it's collecting day in the
    Yard. By-the-bye, though. A lame foreigner with a stick.'

    'Ay, ay. You do take a reference sometimes, I see?' said Clennam.

    'When he can pay, sir,' replied Pancks. 'Take all you can get, and
    keep back all you can't be forced to give up. That's business. The lame
    foreigner with the stick wants a top room down the Yard. Is he good for
    it?'

    'I am,' said Clennam, 'and I will answer for him.'

    'That's enough. What I must have of Bleeding Heart Yard,' said Pancks,
    making a note of the case in his book, 'is my bond. I want my bond, you
    see. Pay up, or produce your property! That's the watchword down the
    Yard. The lame foreigner with the stick represented that you sent him;
    but he could represent (as far as that goes) that the Great Mogul sent
    him. He has been in the hospital, I believe?'

    'Yes. Through having met with an accident. He is only just now
    discharged.'

    'It's pauperising a man, sir, I have been shown, to let him into a
    hospital?' said Pancks. And again blew off that remarkable sound.

    'I have been shown so too,' said Clennam, coldly.

    Mr Pancks, being by that time quite ready for a start, got under steam
    in a moment, and, without any other signal or ceremony, was snorting
    down the step-ladder and working into Bleeding Heart Yard, before he
    seemed to be well out of the counting-house.

    Throughout the remainder of the day, Bleeding Heart Yard was in
    consternation, as the grim Pancks cruised in it; haranguing the
    inhabitants on their backslidings in respect of payment, demanding his
    bond, breathing notices to quit and executions, running down defaulters,
    sending a swell of terror on before him, and leaving it in his wake.
    Knots of people, impelled by a fatal attraction, lurked outside any
    house in which he was known to be, listening for fragments of his
    discourses to the inmates; and, when he was rumoured to be coming down
    the stairs, often could not disperse so quickly but that he would be
    prematurely in among them, demanding their own arrears, and rooting them
    to the spot. Throughout the remainder of the day, Mr Pancks's What were
    they up to? and What did they mean by it? sounded all over the Yard. Mr
    Pancks wouldn't hear of excuses, wouldn't hear of complaints, wouldn't
    hear of repairs, wouldn't hear of anything but unconditional money down.
    Perspiring and puffing and darting about in eccentric directions, and
    becoming hotter and dingier every moment, he lashed the tide of the yard
    into a most agitated and turbid state. It had not settled down into calm
    water again full two hours after he had been seen fuming away on the
    horizon at the top of the steps.

    There were several small assemblages of the Bleeding Hearts at the
    popular points of meeting in the Yard that night, among whom it was
    universally agreed that Mr Pancks was a hard man to have to do with; and
    that it was much to be regretted, so it was, that a gentleman like Mr
    Casby should put his rents in his hands, and never know him in his true
    light. For (said the Bleeding Hearts), if a gentleman with that head of
    hair and them eyes took his rents into his own hands, ma'am, there
    would be none of this worriting and wearing, and things would be very
    different.

    At which identical evening hour and minute, the Patriarch--who had
    floated serenely through the Yard in the forenoon before the harrying
    began, with the express design of getting up this trustfulness in his
    shining bumps and silken locks--at which identical hour and minute,
    that first-rate humbug of a thousand guns was heavily floundering in the
    little Dock of his exhausted Tug at home, and was saying, as he turned
    his thumbs:

    'A very bad day's work, Pancks, very bad day's work. It seems to me,
    sir, and I must insist on making this observation forcibly in justice to
    myself, that you ought to have got much more money, much more money.'

 The Arthur and Doyce deal is done, and now they're partners in Doyce's business. Everything is on the up and up, the total diametric opposite of how the Clennam business was run before. Arthur is psyched, Doyce is psyched, Meagles is psyched for having set the whole thing up. Awesome. One day, working in his new little office in the factory in Bleeding Heart Yard, Arthur gets visitors. It's Flora! And Mr. F's Aunt! He's totally pained that they are there, but what can you do. Mr. F's Aunt continues to hate him and yell at him in a half-senile fashion. Meanwhile, Flora continues to insinuate that they still have some kind of romantic ties and that their forbidden love is about to discovered at any moment. Arthur can't deal with either of them. But it turns out that Flora is actually there because she's going to hire Little Dorrit to do needlework. Her dad, Mr. Casby, mentioned Little Dorrit as someone Arthur had recommended. Arthur is thrilled, and asks Flora to help Little Dorrit in whatever way she can. Pancks and Mr. Casby come in to wish Arthur well with his new job. Arthur in turn thanks them for the Little Dorrit thing, and Pancks clarifies that Mr. Casby didn't recommend her, because he doesn't know her. Pancks does a little speech about credit-worthiness and how it's hard to measure just by looking at someone. Which is not really relevant to their discussion... but is very relevant to the themes of the novel! Time to go. Except, suddenly, Mr. F's Aunt refuses to leave and has to be tricked into going by Pancks. He escorts everyone out and then comes back to Arthur alone. Pancks asks Arthur what he knows about the Dorrits. Arthur is kind of confused, but Pancks tells him that he means well and that this has nothing to do with Casby or any devious business practices. So Arthur tells him the very little he knows. Before leaving, Pancks asks Arthur about "a lame foreigner with a stick" - obviously Cavalletto - who wants to rent a room. Arthur vouches for him, which comes back a little bit to the discussion about Casby not being able to vouch for Little Dorrit. This vouching stuff is key - take our word for it. Pancks spends the rest of the day harassing the Bleeding Heart Yard tenants for rent money. They agree that he's awful and wish that Casby himself were doing the rent-collecting. But - ooh, shocking twist coming up! - when Pancks goes to report to Casby at the end of the day, we see that it's actually the super-nice, awesome-seeming Casby who is the greedy monster, yelling at Pancks for being too easy on the renters.

