He perceived that the man was not a difficulty in his own
mind alone, but in Mr Meagles's too; for such conversation as they had
together on the short way to the Park was by no means well sustained,
and Mr Meagles's eye always wandered back to the man, even when he spoke
of something very different.
At length they being among the trees, Mr Meagles stopped short, and
said: 'Mr Clennam, will you do me the favour to look at this man? His name
is Doyce, Daniel Doyce. You wouldn't suppose this man to be a notorious
rascal; would you?' 'I certainly should not.' It was really a disconcerting question, with
the man there. 'No. You would not. I know you would not. You wouldn't suppose him to be
a public offender; would you?'
'No.' 'No. But he is. He is a public offender. What has he been guilty of?
Murder, manslaughter, arson, forgery, swindling, house-breaking, highway
robbery, larceny, conspiracy, fraud? Which should you say, now?'
'I should say,' returned Arthur Clennam, observing a faint smile in
Daniel Doyce's face, 'not one of them.'
'You are right,' said Mr Meagles. 'But he has been ingenious, and he has
been trying to turn his ingenuity to his country's service. That makes
him a public offender directly, sir.' Arthur looked at the man himself, who only shook his head.
'This Doyce,' said Mr Meagles, 'is a smith and engineer. He is not in a
large way, but he is well known as a very ingenious man. A dozen years
ago, he perfects an invention (involving a very curious secret process)
of great importance to his country and his fellow-creatures. I won't say
how much money it cost him, or how many years of his life he had been
about it, but he brought it to perfection a dozen years ago. Wasn't it a
dozen?' said Mr Meagles, addressing Doyce. 'He is the most exasperating
man in the world; he never complains!' 'Yes. Rather better than twelve years ago.'
'Rather better?' said Mr Meagles, 'you mean rather worse. Well, Mr
Clennam, he addresses himself to the Government. The moment he addresses
himself to the Government, he becomes a public offender! Sir,' said Mr
Meagles, in danger of making himself excessively hot again, 'he ceases
to be an innocent citizen, and becomes a culprit.
He is treated from that instant as a man who has done some infernal
action. He is a man to be shirked, put off, brow-beaten, sneered at,
handed over by this highly-connected young or old gentleman, to that
highly-connected young or old gentleman, and dodged back again; he is a
man with no rights in his own time, or his own property; a mere outlaw,
whom it is justifiable to get rid of anyhow; a man to be worn out by all
possible means.' It was not so difficult to believe, after the morning's experience, as
Mr Meagles supposed. 'Don't stand there, Doyce, turning your spectacle-case over and over,'
cried Mr Meagles, 'but tell Mr Clennam what you confessed to me.'