poising a brush in each hand, and looking steadily upon him. "It will be very much to your advantage, I assure you."
"And you can tell me how," said Jonas, "can't you?"
"Shall I tell you how?" returned the other.
"I think you had better," said Jonas. "Strange things have been done in the Insurance way before now, by strange sorts of men, and I mean to take care of myself."
"Chuzzlewit!" replied Montague, leaning forward, with his arms upon his knees, and looking full into his face. "Strange things have been done, and are done every day; not only in our way, but in a variety of other ways; and no one suspects them. But ours, as you say, my good friend, is a strange way; and we strangely happen, sometimes, to come into the knowledge of very strange events."
He beckoned to Jonas to bring his chair nearer; and looking slightly round, as if to remind him of the presence of Nadgett, whispered in his ear.
From red to white; from white to red again; from red to yellow; then to a cold, dull, awful, sweat-bedabbled blue. In that short whisper, all these changes fell upon the face of Jonas Chuzzlewit; and when at last he laid his hand upon the whisperer's mouth, appalled, lest any syllable of what he said should reach the ears of the third person present, it was as bloodless, and as heavy as the hand of Death.
He drew his chair away, and sat a spectacle of terror, misery and rage. He was afraid to speak, or look, or move, or sit still. Abject, crouching, and miserable, he was a greater degradation to the form he bore, than if he had been a loathsome wound from head to heel.
His companion leisurely resumed his dressing, and completed it, glancing sometimes with a smile at the transformation he had effected, but never speaking once.
"You 'll not object," he said, when he was quite equipped, "to venture further with us, Chuzzlewit, my friend?"
His pale lips faintly stammered out a "No."
"Well said! That's like yourself. Do you know, I was thinking yesterday that your father-in-law, relying on your advice as a man of great saga-city in money matters, as no doubt you are, would join us, if the thing were well presented to him. He has money?"
"Yes, he has money."
"Shall I leave Mr. Pecksniff to you? Will you undertake for Mr. Pecksniff?"
"I 'll try. I 'll do my best."
"A thousand thanks," replied the other, clapping him upon the shoulder. "Shall we walk down stairs? Mr. Nadgett! Follow us, if you please."
They went down in that order. Whatever Jonas felt in reference to Montague; whatever sense he had of being caged, and barred, and trapped, and having fallen down into a pit of deepest ruin; whatever thoughts came crowding on his mind even at that early time, of one terrible chance of escape, of one red glimmer in a sky of blackness; he no more thought that the slinking figure half a dozen stairs behind him was his pursuing Fate, than that the other figure at his side was his Good Angel.
