Great Expectations - Page 320/421

"By whom?" said I.

"I wouldn't go into that," said Wemmick, evasively, "it might clash with

official responsibilities. I heard it, as I have in my time heard other

curious things in the same place. I don't tell it you on information

received. I heard it."

He took the toasting-fork and sausage from me as he spoke, and set forth

the Aged's breakfast neatly on a little tray. Previous to placing it

before him, he went into the Aged's room with a clean white cloth, and

tied the same under the old gentleman's chin, and propped him up, and

put his nightcap on one side, and gave him quite a rakish air. Then he

placed his breakfast before him with great care, and said, "All right,

ain't you, Aged P.?" To which the cheerful Aged replied, "All right,

John, my boy, all right!" As there seemed to be a tacit understanding

that the Aged was not in a presentable state, and was therefore to be

considered invisible, I made a pretence of being in complete ignorance

of these proceedings.

"This watching of me at my chambers (which I have once had reason to

suspect)," I said to Wemmick when he came back, "is inseparable from the

person to whom you have adverted; is it?"

Wemmick looked very serious. "I couldn't undertake to say that, of my

own knowledge. I mean, I couldn't undertake to say it was at first. But

it either is, or it will be, or it's in great danger of being."

As I saw that he was restrained by fealty to Little Britain from saying

as much as he could, and as I knew with thankfulness to him how far out

of his way he went to say what he did, I could not press him. But I told

him, after a little meditation over the fire, that I would like to ask

him a question, subject to his answering or not answering, as he

deemed right, and sure that his course would be right. He paused in his

breakfast, and crossing his arms, and pinching his shirt-sleeves (his

notion of in-door comfort was to sit without any coat), he nodded to me

once, to put my question.

"You have heard of a man of bad character, whose true name is

Compeyson?"

He answered with one other nod.

"Is he living?"

One other nod.

"Is he in London?"

He gave me one other nod, compressed the post-office exceedingly, gave

me one last nod, and went on with his breakfast.