"Well then, good night," said Mr. Pickwick, attempting to disengage his hand.
"My friend, my benefactor, my honoured companion," murmured Mr. Winkle, catching at his wrist. "Do not judge me harshly; do not, when you hear that, driven to extremity by hopeless obstacles, I———"
"Now then," said Mr. Tupman, re-appearing at the door. "Are you coming, or are we to be locked in?"
"Yes, yes, I am ready," replied Mr. Winkle. And with a violent effort he tore himself away.
As Mr. Pickwick was gazing down the passage after them in silent astonishment, Sam Weller appeared at the stair-head, and whispered for one moment in Mr. Winkle's ear.
"Oh certainly, depend upon me," said that gentleman aloud.
"Thankee, sir. You won't forget, sir?" said Sam.
"Of course not," replied Mr. Winkle.
"Wish you luck, sir," said Sam, touching his hat. "I should very much liked to ha' joined you, sir; but the gov'ner o' course is pairamount."
"It is very much to your credit that you remain here," said Mr. Winkle. With these words they disappeared down the stairs.
"Very extraordinary," said Mr. Pickwick, going back into his room, and seating himself at the table in a musing attitude. "What can that young man be going to do?"
He had sat ruminating about the matter for some time, when the voice of Roker, the turnkey, demanded whether he might come in.
"By all means," said Mr. Pickwick.
"I've brought you a softer pillow, sir," said Roker, " instead of the temporary one you had last night."
"Thank you," said Mr. Pickwick. "Will you take a glass of wine?"
"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Roker, accepting the proffered glass. "Yours, sir."
"Thank you," said Mr. Pickwick.
