It was at this time that Mr Pancks, in discharge of his compact with
Clennam, revealed to him the whole of his gipsy story, and told him
Little Dorrit's fortune. Her father was heir-at-law to a great estate
that had long lain unknown of, unclaimed, and accumulating. His right
was now clear, nothing interposed in his way, the Marshalsea gates stood
open, the Marshalsea walls were down, a few flourishes of his pen, and
he was extremely rich.
In his tracking out of the claim to its complete establishment, Mr
Pancks had shown a sagacity that nothing could baffle, and a patience
and secrecy that nothing could tire. 'I little thought, sir,' said
Pancks, 'when you and I crossed Smithfield that night, and I told you
what sort of a Collector I was, that this would come of it. I little
thought, sir, when I told you you were not of the Clennams of
Cornwall, that I was ever going to tell you who were of the Dorrits of
Dorsetshire.'
He then went on to detail. How, having that name recorded
in his note-book, he was first attracted by the name alone. How, having
often found two exactly similar names, even belonging to the same place,
to involve no traceable consanguinity, near or distant, he did not at
first give much heed to this, except in the way of speculation as to
what a surprising change would be made in the condition of a little
seamstress, if she could be shown to have any interest in so large a
property. How he rather supposed himself to have pursued the idea into
its next degree, because there was something uncommon in the quiet
little seamstress, which pleased him and provoked his curiosity.
How he had felt his way inch by inch, and 'Moled it out, sir' (that was
Mr Pancks's expression), grain by grain. How, in the beginning of
the labour described by this new verb, and to render which the more
expressive Mr Pancks shut his eyes in pronouncing it and shook his hair
over them, he had alternated from sudden lights and hopes to sudden
darkness and no hopes, and back again, and back again. How he had made
acquaintances in the Prison, expressly that he might come and go there
as all other comers and goers did; and how his first ray of light was
unconsciously given him by Mr Dorrit himself and by his son; to both of
whom he easily became known; with both of whom he talked much, casually
('but always Moleing you'll observe,' said Mr Pancks): and from whom he
derived, without being at all suspected, two or three little points of
family history which, as he began to hold clues of his own, suggested
others.