'London at last!' cried Nicholas, throwing back his greatcoat androusing Smike from a long nap. 'It seemed to me as though we shouldnever reach it.'

'And yet you came along at a tidy pace too,' observed the coachman,looking over his shoulder at Nicholas with no very pleasant expressionof countenance.

'Ay, I know that,' was the reply; 'but I have been very anxious to be atmy journey's end, and that makes the way seem long.'

'Well,' remarked the coachman, 'if the way seemed long with such cattleas you've sat behind, you MUST have been most uncommon anxious;' andso saying, he let out his whip-lash and touched up a little boy on thecalves of his legs by way of emphasis.

They rattled on through the noisy, bustling, crowded street of London,now displaying long double rows of brightly-burning lamps, dotted hereand there with the chemists' glaring lights, and illuminated besideswith the brilliant flood that streamed from the windows of the shops,where sparkling jewellery, silks and velvets of the richest colours,the most inviting delicacies, and most sumptuous articles of luxuriousornament, succeeded each other in rich and glittering profusion. Streamsof people apparently without end poured on and on, jostling each otherin the crowd and hurrying forward, scarcely seeming to notice the richesthat surrounded them on every side; while vehicles of all shapes andmakes, mingled up together in one moving mass, like running water, lenttheir ceaseless roar to swell the noise and tumult.

As they dashed by the quickly-changing and ever-varying objects, it wascurious to observe in what a strange procession they passed before theeye. Emporiums of splendid dresses, the materials brought from everyquarter of the world; tempting stores of everything to stimulate andpamper the sated appetite and give new relish to the oft-repeated feast;vessels of burnished gold and silver, wrought into every exquisite formof vase, and dish, and goblet; guns, swords, pistols, and patent enginesof destruction; screws and irons for the crooked, clothes for thenewly-born, drugs for the sick, coffins for the dead, and churchyardsfor the buried--all these jumbled each with the other and flocking sideby side, seemed to flit by in motley dance like the fantastic groups ofthe old Dutch painter, and with the same stern moral for the unheedingrestless crowd.

Nor were there wanting objects in the crowd itself to give new pointand purpose to the shifting scene. The rags of the squalid ballad-singerfluttered in the rich light that showed the goldsmith's treasures, paleand pinched-up faces hovered about the windows where was tempting food,hungry eyes wandered over the profusion guarded by one thin sheetof brittle glass--an iron wall to them; half-naked shivering figuresstopped to gaze at Chinese shawls and golden stuffs of India. Therewas a christening party at the largest coffin-maker's and a funeralhatchment had stopped some great improvements in the bravest mansion.Life and death went hand in hand; wealth and poverty stood side by side;repletion and starvation laid them down together.

But it was London; and the old country lady inside, who had put her headout of the coach-window a mile or two this side Kingston, and cried outto the driver that she was sure he must have passed it and forgotten toset her down, was satisfied at last.

Nicholas engaged beds for himself and Smike at the inn where the coachstopped, and repaired, without the delay of another moment, to thelodgings of Newman Noggs; for his anxiety and impatience had increasedwith every succeeding minute, and were almost beyond control.

There was a fire in Newman's garret; and a candle had been left burning;the floor was cleanly swept, the room was as comfortably arranged assuch a room could be, and meat and drink were placed in order upon thetable. Everything bespoke the affectionate care and attention of NewmanNoggs, but Newman himself was not there.

'Do you know what time he will be home?' inquired Nicholas, tapping atthe door of Newman's front neighbour.

'Ah, Mr Johnson!' said Crowl, presenting himself. 'Welcome, sir. Howwell you're looking! I never could have believed--'

'Pardon me,' interposed Nicholas. 'My question--I am extremely anxiousto know.'

'Why, he has a troublesome affair of business,' replied Crowl, 'and willnot be home before twelve o'clock. He was very unwilling to go, I cantell you, but there was no help for it. However, he left word that youwere to make yourself comfortable till he came back, and that I was toentertain you, which I shall be very glad to do.'

In proof of his extreme readiness to exert himself for the generalentertainment, Mr Crowl drew a chair to the table as he spoke, andhelping himself plentifully to the cold meat, invited Nicholas and Smiketo follow his example.

Disappointed and uneasy, Nicholas could touch no food, so, after he hadseen Smike comfortably established at the table, he walked out (despitea great many dissuasions uttered by Mr Crowl with his mouth full), andleft Smike to detain Newman in case he returned first.

As Miss La Creevy had anticipated, Nicholas betook himself straight toher house. Finding her from home, he debated within himself for sometime whether he should go to his mother's residence, and so compromiseher with Ralph Nickleby. Fully persuaded, however, that Newman would nothave solicited him to return unless there was some strong reason whichrequired his presence at home, he resolved to go there, and hastenedeastwards with all speed.

Mrs Nickleby would not be at home, the girl said, until past twelve, orlater. She believed Miss Nickleby was well, but she didn't live at homenow, nor did she come home except very seldom. She couldn't say whereshe was stopping, but it was not at Madame Mantalini's. She was sure ofthat.

With his heart beating violently, and apprehending he knew not whatdisaster, Nicholas returned to where he had left Smike. Newman had notbeen home. He wouldn't be, till twelve o'clock; there was no chance ofit. Was there no possibility of sending to fetch him if it were only foran instant, or forwarding to him one line of writing to which he mightreturn a verbal reply? That was quite impracticable. He was not atGolden Square, and probably had been sent to execute some commission ata distance.

Nicholas tried to remain quietly where he was, but he felt so nervousand excited that he could not sit still. He seemed to be losing timeunless he was moving. It was an absurd fancy, he knew, but he was whollyunable to resist it. So, he took up his hat and rambled out again.

He strolled westward this time, pacing the long streets with hurriedfootsteps, and agitated by a thousand misgivings and apprehensionswhich he could not overcome. He passed into Hyde Park, now silent anddeserted, and increased his rate of walking as if in the hope of leavinghis thoughts behind. They crowded upon him more thickly, however, nowthere were no passing objects to attract his attention; and the one ideawas always uppermost, that some stroke of ill-fortune must have occurredso calamitous in its nature that all were fearful of disclosing it tohim. The old question arose again and again--What could it be? Nicholaswalked till he was weary, but was not one bit the wiser; and indeed hecame out of the Park at last a great deal more confused and perplexedthan when he went in.

He had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink since early in themorning, and felt quite worn out and exhausted. As he returnedlanguidly towards the point from which he had started, along one of thethoroughfares which lie between Park Lane and Bond Street, he passed ahandsome hotel, before which he stopped mechanically.

'An expensive place, I dare say,' thought Nicholas; 'but a pint of wineand a biscuit are no great debauch wherever they are had. And yet Idon't know.'

He walked on a few steps, but looking wistfully down the long vista ofgas-lamps before him, and thinking how long it would take to reach theend of it and being besides in that kind of mood in which a man is mostdisposed to yield to his first impulse--and being, besides, stronglyattracted to the hotel, in part by curiosity, and in part by someodd mixture of feelings which he would have been troubled todefine--Nicholas turned back again, and walked into the coffee-room.

It was very handsomely furnished. The walls were ornamented with thechoicest specimens of French paper, enriched with a gilded cornice ofelegant design. The floor was covered with a rich carpet; and two superbmirrors, one above the chimneypiece and one at the opposite end of theroom reaching from floor to ceiling, multiplied the other beauties andadded new ones of their own to enhance the general effect. There wasa rather noisy party of four gentlemen in a box by the fire-place, andonly two other persons present--both elderly gentlemen, and both alone.

Observing all this in the first comprehensive glance with which astranger surveys a place that is new to him, Nicholas sat himself downin the box next to the noisy party, with his back towards them, andpostponing his order for a pint of claret until such time as the waiterand one of the elderly gentlemen should have settled a disputedquestion relative to the price of an item in the bill of fare, took up anewspaper and began to read.

He had not read twenty lines, and was in truth himself dozing, when hewas startled by the mention of his sister's name. 'Little Kate Nickleby'were the words that caught his ear. He raised his head in amazement, andas he did so, saw by the reflection in the opposite glass, that two ofthe party behind him had risen and were standing before the fire. 'Itmust have come from one of them,' thought Nicholas. He waited to hearmore with a countenance of some indignation, for the tone of speech hadbeen anything but respectful, and the appearance of the individual whomhe presumed to have been the speaker was coarse and swaggering.

This person--so Nicholas observed in the same glance at the mirror whichhad enabled him to see his face--was standing with his back to the fireconversing with a younger man, who stood with his back to the company,wore his hat, and was adjusting his shirt-collar by the aid of theglass. They spoke in whispers, now and then bursting into a loud laugh,but Nicholas could catch no repetition of the words, nor anythingsounding at all like the words, which had attracted his attention.

At length the two resumed their seats, and more wine being ordered, theparty grew louder in their mirth. Still there was no reference made toanybody with whom he was acquainted, and Nicholas became persuadedthat his excited fancy had either imagined the sounds altogether, orconverted some other words into the name which had been so much in histhoughts.

'It is remarkable too,' thought Nicholas: 'if it had been "Kate" or"Kate Nickleby," I should not have been so much surprised: but "littleKate Nickleby!"'

The wine coming at the moment prevented his finishing the sentence. Heswallowed a glassful and took up the paper again. At that instant--

'Little Kate Nickleby!' cried the voice behind him.

'I was right,' muttered Nicholas as the paper fell from his hand. 'Andit was the man I supposed.'

'As there was a proper objection to drinking her in heel-taps,' said thevoice, 'we'll give her the first glass in the new magnum. Little KateNickleby!'

'Little Kate Nickleby,' cried the other three. And the glasses were setdown empty.

Keenly alive to the tone and manner of this slight and careless mentionof his sister's name in a public place, Nicholas fired at once; but hekept himself quiet by a great effort, and did not even turn his head.

'The jade!' said the same voice which had spoken before. 'She's a trueNickleby--a worthy imitator of her old uncle Ralph--she hangs back to bemore sought after--so does he; nothing to be got out of Ralph unless youfollow him up, and then the money comes doubly welcome, and the bargaindoubly hard, for you're impatient and he isn't. Oh! infernal cunning.'

'Infernal cunning,' echoed two voices.

Nicholas was in a perfect agony as the two elderly gentlemen opposite,rose one after the other and went away, lest they should be the means ofhis losing one word of what was said. But the conversation was suspendedas they withdrew, and resumed with even greater freedom when they hadleft the room.

'I am afraid,' said the younger gentleman, 'that the old woman has grownjea-a-lous, and locked her up. Upon my soul it looks like it.'

'If they quarrel and little Nickleby goes home to her mother, so muchthe better,' said the first. 'I can do anything with the old lady.She'll believe anything I tell her.'

'Egad that's true,' returned the other voice. 'Ha, ha, ha! Poor deyvle!'

The laugh was taken up by the two voices which always came in together,and became general at Mrs Nickleby's expense. Nicholas turned burninghot with rage, but he commanded himself for the moment, and waited tohear more.

What he heard need not be repeated here. Suffice it that as the winewent round he heard enough to acquaint him with the characters anddesigns of those whose conversation he overhead; to possess him with thefull extent of Ralph's villainy, and the real reason of his own presencebeing required in London. He heard all this and more. He heard hissister's sufferings derided, and her virtuous conduct jeered at andbrutally misconstrued; he heard her name bandied from mouth to mouth,and herself made the subject of coarse and insolent wagers, free speech,and licentious jesting.

The man who had spoken first, led the conversation, and indeed almostengrossed it, being only stimulated from time to time by some slightobservation from one or other of his companions. To him then Nicholasaddressed himself when he was sufficiently composed to stand before theparty, and force the words from his parched and scorching throat.

'Let me have a word with you, sir,' said Nicholas.

'With me, sir?' retorted Sir Mulberry Hawk, eyeing him in disdainfulsurprise.

'I said with you,' replied Nicholas, speaking with great difficulty, forhis passion choked him.

'A mysterious stranger, upon my soul!' exclaimed Sir Mulberry, raisinghis wine-glass to his lips, and looking round upon his friends.

'Will you step apart with me for a few minutes, or do you refuse?' saidNicholas sternly.

Sir Mulberry merely paused in the act of drinking, and bade him eithername his business or leave the table.

Nicholas drew a card from his pocket, and threw it before him.

'There, sir,' said Nicholas; 'my business you will guess.'

A momentary expression of astonishment, not unmixed with some confusion,appeared in the face of Sir Mulberry as he read the name; but he subduedit in an instant, and tossing the card to Lord Verisopht, who satopposite, drew a toothpick from a glass before him, and very leisurelyapplied it to his mouth.

'Your name and address?' said Nicholas, turning paler as his passionkindled.

'I shall give you neither,' replied Sir Mulberry.

'If there is a gentleman in this party,' said Nicholas, looking roundand scarcely able to make his white lips form the words, 'he willacquaint me with the name and residence of this man.'

There was a dead silence.

'I am the brother of the young lady who has been the subject ofconversation here,' said Nicholas. 'I denounce this person as a liar,and impeach him as a coward. If he has a friend here, he will save himthe disgrace of the paltry attempt to conceal his name--and utterlyuseless one--for I will find it out, nor leave him until I have.'

Sir Mulberry looked at him contemptuously, and, addressing hiscompanions, said--

'Let the fellow talk, I have nothing serious to say to boys of hisstation; and his pretty sister shall save him a broken head, if he talkstill midnight.'

'You are a base and spiritless scoundrel!' said Nicholas, 'and shall beproclaimed so to the world. I WILL know you; I will follow you home ifyou walk the streets till morning.'

Sir Mulberry's hand involuntarily closed upon the decanter, and heseemed for an instant about to launch it at the head of his challenger.But he only filled his glass, and laughed in derision.

Nicholas sat himself down, directly opposite to the party, and,summoning the waiter, paid his bill.

'Do you know that person's name?' he inquired of the man in an audiblevoice; pointing out Sir Mulberry as he put the question.

Sir Mulberry laughed again, and the two voices which had always spokentogether, echoed the laugh; but rather feebly.

'That gentleman, sir?' replied the waiter, who, no doubt, knew his cue,and answered with just as little respect, and just as much impertinenceas he could safely show: 'no, sir, I do not, sir.'

'Here, you sir,' cried Sir Mulberry, as the man was retiring; 'do youknow THAT person's name?'

'Name, sir? No, sir.'

'Then you'll find it there,' said Sir Mulberry, throwing Nicholas's cardtowards him; 'and when you have made yourself master of it, put thatpiece of pasteboard in the fire--do you hear me?'

The man grinned, and, looking doubtfully at Nicholas, compromised thematter by sticking the card in the chimney-glass. Having done this, heretired.

Nicholas folded his arms, and biting his lip, sat perfectly quiet;sufficiently expressing by his manner, however, a firm determination tocarry his threat of following Sir Mulberry home, into steady execution.

It was evident from the tone in which the younger member of the partyappeared to remonstrate with his friend, that he objected to this courseof proceeding, and urged him to comply with the request which Nicholashad made. Sir Mulberry, however, who was not quite sober, and who wasin a sullen and dogged state of obstinacy, soon silenced therepresentations of his weak young friend, and further seemed--as if tosave himself from a repetition of them--to insist on being left alone.However this might have been, the young gentleman and the two who hadalways spoken together, actually rose to go after a short interval, andpresently retired, leaving their friend alone with Nicholas.

It will be very readily supposed that to one in the condition ofNicholas, the minutes appeared to move with leaden wings indeed, andthat their progress did not seem the more rapid from the monotonousticking of a French clock, or the shrill sound of its little bell whichtold the quarters. But there he sat; and in his old seat on the oppositeside of the room reclined Sir Mulberry Hawk, with his legs upon thecushion, and his handkerchief thrown negligently over his knees:finishing his magnum of claret with the utmost coolness andindifference.

Thus they remained in perfect silence for upwards of an hour--Nicholaswould have thought for three hours at least, but that the littlebell had only gone four times. Twice or thrice he looked angrily andimpatiently round; but there was Sir Mulberry in the same attitude,putting his glass to his lips from time to time, and looking vacantlyat the wall, as if he were wholly ignorant of the presence of any livingperson.

At length he yawned, stretched himself, and rose; walked coolly to theglass, and having surveyed himself therein, turned round and honouredNicholas with a long and contemptuous stare. Nicholas stared again withright good-will; Sir Mulberry shrugged his shoulders, smiled slightly,rang the bell, and ordered the waiter to help him on with his greatcoat.

The man did so, and held the door open.

'Don't wait,' said Sir Mulberry; and they were alone again.

Sir Mulberry took several turns up and down the room, whistlingcarelessly all the time; stopped to finish the last glass of claretwhich he had poured out a few minutes before, walked again, put on hishat, adjusted it by the glass, drew on his gloves, and, at last, walkedslowly out. Nicholas, who had been fuming and chafing until he wasnearly wild, darted from his seat, and followed him: so closely, thatbefore the door had swung upon its hinges after Sir Mulberry's passingout, they stood side by side in the street together.

There was a private cabriolet in waiting; the groom opened the apron,and jumped out to the horse's head.

'Will you make yourself known to me?' asked Nicholas in a suppressedvoice.

'No,' replied the other fiercely, and confirming the refusal with anoath. 'No.'

'If you trust to your horse's speed, you will find yourself mistaken,'said Nicholas. 'I will accompany you. By Heaven I will, if I hang on tothe foot-board.'

'You shall be horsewhipped if you do,' returned Sir Mulberry.

'You are a villain,' said Nicholas.

'You are an errand-boy for aught I know,' said Sir Mulberry Hawk.

'I am the son of a country gentleman,' returned Nicholas, 'your equal inbirth and education, and your superior I trust in everything besides.I tell you again, Miss Nickleby is my sister. Will you or will you notanswer for your unmanly and brutal conduct?'

'To a proper champion--yes. To you--no,' returned Sir Mulberry, takingthe reins in his hand. 'Stand out of the way, dog. William, let go herhead.'

'You had better not,' cried Nicholas, springing on the step as SirMulberry jumped in, and catching at the reins. 'He has no command overthe horse, mind. You shall not go--you shall not, I swear--till you havetold me who you are.'

The groom hesitated, for the mare, who was a high-spirited animal andthorough-bred, plunged so violently that he could scarcely hold her.

'Leave go, I tell you!' thundered his master.

The man obeyed. The animal reared and plunged as though it would dashthe carriage into a thousand pieces, but Nicholas, blind to all senseof danger, and conscious of nothing but his fury, still maintained hisplace and his hold upon the reins.

'Will you unclasp your hand?'

'Will you tell me who you are?'

'No!'

'No!'

In less time than the quickest tongue could tell it, these words wereexchanged, and Sir Mulberry shortening his whip, applied it furiouslyto the head and shoulders of Nicholas. It was broken in the struggle;Nicholas gained the heavy handle, and with it laid open one side of hisantagonist's face from the eye to the lip. He saw the gash; knew thatthe mare had darted off at a wild mad gallop; a hundred lights danced inhis eyes, and he felt himself flung violently upon the ground.

He was giddy and sick, but staggered to his feet directly, roused by theloud shouts of the men who were tearing up the street, and screaming tothose ahead to clear the way. He was conscious of a torrent of peoplerushing quickly by--looking up, could discern the cabriolet whirledalong the foot-pavement with frightful rapidity--then heard a loud cry,the smashing of some heavy body, and the breaking of glass--and then thecrowd closed in in the distance, and he could see or hear no more.

The general attention had been entirely directed from himself to theperson in the carriage, and he was quite alone. Rightly judging thatunder such circumstances it would be madness to follow, he turned down abye-street in search of the nearest coach-stand, finding after a minuteor two that he was reeling like a drunken man, and aware for the firsttime of a stream of blood that was trickling down his face and breast.