"What are you about?" demanded
Wemmick, with the utmost indignation. "What do
you come snivelling here for?"

"I didn't go to do it, Mr. Wemmick."

"You did," said Wemmiek. "How dare
you? You're not in a fit state to come here, if
you can't come here without spluttering like a
bad pen. What do you mean by it?"

"A man can't help his feelings, Mr.
Wemmick," pleaded Mike.

"His what?" demanded Wemmick, quite
savagely. "Say that again!"

"Now, look here my man," said Mr. Jaggers,
advancing a step, and pointing to the door.
"Get out of this office. I'll have no feelings
here. Get out."

"It serves you right," said Wemmiek. "Get
out."

So the unfortunate Mike very humbly
withdrew, and Mr. Jaggers and Wemmick appeared
to have re-established their good understanding,
and went to work again with an air of refreshment
upon them as if they had just had lunch.

            CHAPTER LII.

FROM Little Britain I went, with my cheque
in my pocket, to Miss Skiffins's brother, the
accountant; and Miss Skiffins's brother, the
accountant, going straight to Clarriker's and
bringing Clarriker to me, I had the great
satisfaction of completing that arrangement. It was
the only good thing I had done, and the only
completed thing I had done, since I was first
apprised of my great expectations.

Clarriker informing me on that occasion that
the affairs of the House were steadily progressing,
that he would now be able to establish a
small branch-house in the East which was much
wanted for the extension of the business, and
that Herbert in his new partnership capacity
would go out and take charge of it, I found that
I must have prepared for a separation from my
friend, even though my own affairs had been
more settled. And now indeed I felt as if my
last anchor were loosening its hold, and I should
soon be driving with the winds and waves.

But there was recompense in the joy with
which Herbert came home of a night and told
me of these changes, little imagining that he
told me no news, and sketched airy pictures of
himself conducting Clara Barley to the land of
the Arabian Nights, and of me going out to join
them (with a caravan of camels, I believe), and
of our all going up the Nile and seeing wonders.
Without being sanguine as to my own part in
these bright plans, I felt that Herbert's way was
clearing last, and that old Bill Barley had but
to stick to his pepper and rum, and his daughter
would soon be happily provided for.

We had now got into the month of March.
My left arm, though it presented no bad symptoms,
took in the natural course so long to heal
that I was still unable to get a coat on. My
right hand was tolerably restored;—disfigured,
but fairly serviceable.

On a Monday morning, when Herbert and I
were at breakfast, I received the following letter
from Wemmick by the post.

"Walworth. Burn this as soon as read. Early
in the week, or say Wednesday, you might do what
you know of if you felt disposed to try it. Now
burn."

When I had shown this to Herbert and had
put it in the fire—but not before we had both
got it by heart—we considered what to do.
For, of course my being disabled could now be
no longer kept out of view.

"I have thought it over, again and again,"
said Herbert, "and I think I know a better
course than taking a Thames waterman. Take
Startop. A good fellow, a skilled hand, fond of
us, and enthusiastic and honourable."

I had thought of him, more than once.

"But how much would you tell him,
Herbert?"

"It is necessary to tell him very little. Let
him suppose it a mere freak, but a secret one,
until the morning comes: then let him know
that there is urgent reason for your getting
Provis aboard and away. You go with him?"

"No doubt."

"Where?"

It had seemed to me, in the many anxious
considerations I had given the point, almost
indifferent what port we made for—Hamburg,
Rotterdam, Antwerp—the place signified little, so
that he was got out of England. Any foreign
steamer that fell in our way and would take us
up, would do. I had always proposed to myself
to get him well down the river in the boat:
certainly well beyond Gravesend which was a
critical place for search or inquiry if suspicion
were afoot. As foreign steamers would leave
London at about the time of high-water, our
plan would be to get down the river by a
previous ebb-tide, and lie by in some quiet spot
until we could pull off to one. The time when
one would be due where we lay, wherever that
might be, could be calculated pretty nearly, if
we made inquiries beforehand.

Herbert assented to all this, and we went out
immediately after breakfast to pursue our
investigations. We found that a steamer for
Hamburg was likely to suit our purpose best,
and we directed our thoughts chiefly to that
vessel. But we noted down what other foreign
steamers would leave London with the same
tide, and we satisfied ourselves that we knew
the build and colour of each. We then separated
for a few hours; I, to get at once such passports
as were necessary; Herbert, to see Startop at
his lodgings. We both did what we had to do
without any hindrance, and when we met again
at one o'clock reported it done. I, for my part,
was prepared with passports; Herbert had seen
Startop, and he was more than ready to join.

Those two should pull a pair of oars, we
settled, and I would steer; our charge would
be sitter, and keep quiet; as speed was not our
object, we should make way enough. We
arranged that Herbert should not come home to