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.