"That didn't part us," said the man. "I made submission, being on the wrong side of the bolts and bars; and as you were not the made man then that you are now, you were glad enough to take back a clerk who wasn't over nice, and who knew something of the trade you drove."
"You begged and prayed, and I consented," returned Ralph. "That was kind of me. Perhaps I did want you—I forget. I should think I did, or you would have begged in vain. You were useful—not too honest, not too delicate, not too nice of hand or heart—but useful."
"Useful, indeed !" said the man. "Come. You had pinched and gTrund me down for some years before that, but I had served you faithfully up to that time, in spite of all your dog's usage—had I"
Ralph made no reply.
"Had I?" said the man again.
"You had had your wages," rejoined Ralph, "and had done your work. We stood on equal ground so far, and could both cry quits."
"Then, but not afterwards," said the other.
"Not afterwards, certainly, nor even then, for (as you have just said) you owed me money, and do still," replied Ralph.
"That's not all," said the man, eagerly. "That's not all. Mark that. I didn't forget that old sore, trust me. Partly in remembrance of that, and partly in the hope of making money some day by the scheme, I took advantage of my position about you, and possessed myself of a hold upon you, which you would give half of all you have, to know, and never can know but through me. I left you—long after that time, remember—and, for some poor trickery that came within the law, but was nothing to what you money-makers daily practise just outside its bounds, was sent away a convict for seven years. I have returned what you see me. Now, Mr. Nickleby," said the man, with a strange mixture of humility and sense of power, "what help and assistance will you give me—what bribe, to speak out plainly? My expectations are not monstrous, but I must live, and to live I must eat and drink. Money is on your side, and hunger and thirst on mine. You may drive an easy bargain."
"Is that all ?" said Ralph, still eyeing his companion with the same steady look, and moving nothing but his lips.
"It depends on you, Mr. Nickleby, whether that's all or not," was the rejoinder.
"Why then, harkye, Mr. ——, I don't know by what name I am to call you," said Ralph.
"By my old one, if you like."
"Why, then, harkye, Mr. Brooker," said Ralph, in his harshest accents, "and don't expect to draw another speech from me—harkye, sir. I know you of old for a ready scoundrel, but you never had a stout heart; and hard work, with (maybe) chains upon those legs of yours, and shorter food than when I 'pinched' and 'ground' you, has blunted your wits, or you would not come with such a tale as this to me. You a hold upon me! Keep it, or publish it to the world, if you like."
"I can't do that," interposed Brooker. "That wouldn't serve me."
"Wouldn't it?" said Ralph. "It will serve you as much as bringing
