yards； and continually calling after him； 'Hi！ Ice…say！ You！ Seer！
Ice…say！ Nice Oatel！'
Even this hospitable person； however； was left behind at last； and
Clennam pursued his way； unmolested。 There was a tranquil air in the
town after the turbulence of the Channel and the beach； and its dulness
in that parison was agreeable。 He met new groups of his countrymen；
who had all a straggling air of having at one time overblown themselves；
like certain unfortable kinds of flowers； and of being now mere
weeds。 They had all an air； too； of lounging out a limited round； day
after day； which strongly reminded him of the Marshalsea。 But； taking
no further note of them than was sufficient to give birth to the
reflection； he sought out a certain street and number which he kept in
his mind。
'So Pancks said；' he murmured to himself； as he stopped before a dull
house answering to the address。 'I suppose his information to be correct
and his discovery； among Mr Casby's loose papers； indisputable； but；
without it； I should hardly have supposed this to be a likely place。'
A dead sort of house； with a dead wall over the way and a dead gateway
at the side； where a pendant bell…handle produced two dead tinkles； and
a knocker produced a dead； flat； surface…tapping； that seemed not to
have depth enough in it to perate even the cracked door。 However； the
door jarred open on a dead sort of spring； and he closed it behind him
as he entered a dull yard； soon brought to a close by another dead wall；
where an attempt had been made to train some creeping shrubs； which were
dead； and to make a little fountain in a grotto； which was dry； and to
decorate that with a little statue； which was gone。
The entry to the house was on the left； and it was garnished as the
outer gateway was； with two printed bills in French and English；
announcing Furnished Apartments to let； with immediate possession。 A
strong cheerful peasant woman； all stocking； petticoat； white cap； and
ear…ring； stood here in a dark doorway； and said with a pleasant show of
teeth； 'Ice…say！ Seer！ Who？'
Clennam； replying in French； said the English lady； he wished to see
the English lady。 'Enter then and ascend； if you please；' returned the
peasant woman； in French likewise。 He did both； and followed her up a
dark bare staircase to a back room on the first…floor。 Hence； there was
a gloomy view of the yard that was dull； and of the shrubs that were
dead； and of the fountain that was dry； and of the pedestal of the
statue that was gone。
'Monsieur Blandois；' said Clennam。
'With pleasure； Monsieur。'
Thereupon the woman withdrew and left him to look at the room。 It was
the pattern of room always to be found in such a house。 Cool； dull； and
dark。 Waxed floor very slippery。 A room not large enough to skate in；
nor adapted to the easy pursuit of any other occupation。 Red and
white curtained windows； little straw mat； little round table with a
tumultuous assemblage of legs underneath； clumsy rush…bottomed chairs；
two great red velvet arm…chairs affording plenty of space to be
unfortable in； bureau； chimney…glass in several pieces pretending to
be in one piece； pair of gaudy vases of very artificial flowers； between
them a Greek warrior with his helmet off； sacrificing a clock to the
Genius of France。
After some pause； a door of munication with another room was opened；
and a lady entered。 She manifested great surprise on seeing Clennam； and
her glance went round the room in search of some one else。
'Pardon me； Miss Wade。 I am alone。'
'It was not your name that was brought to me。'
'No； I know that。 Excuse me。 I have already had experience that my name
does not predispose you to an interview； and I ventured to mention the
name of one I am in search of。'
'Pray；' she returned； motioning him to a chair so coldly that he
remained standing； 'what name was it that you gave？'
'I mentioned the name of Blandois。'
'Blandois？'
'A name you are acquainted with。'
'It is strange；' she said； frowning； 'that you should still press an
undesired interest in me and my acquaintances； in me and my affairs； Mr
Clennam。 I don't know what you mean。'
'Pardon me。 You know the name？'
'What can you have to do with the name？ What can I have to do with the
name？ What can you have to do with my knowing or not knowing any name？
I know many names and I have forgotten many more。 This may be in the
one class； or it may be in the other； or I may never have heard it。 I am
acquainted with no reason for examining myself； or for being examined；
about it。'
'If you will allow me；' said Clennam； 'I will tell you my reason for
pressing the subject。 I admit that I do press it； and I must beg you to
forgive me if I do so； very earnestly。 The reason is all mine； I do not
insinuate that it is in any way yours。'
'Well； sir；' she returned； repeating a little less haughtily than before
her former invitation to him to be seated： to which he now deferred； as
she seated herself。 'I am at least glad to know that this is not another
bondswoman of some friend of yours； who is bereft of free choice； and
whom I have spirited away。 I will hear your reason； if you please。'
'First； to identify the person of whom we speak；' said Clennam； 'let me
observe that it is the person you met in London some time back。 You will
remember meeting him near the river……in the Adelphi！'
'You mix yourself most unaccountably with my business；' she replied；
looking full at him with stern displeasure。 'How do you know that？'
'I entreat you not to take it ill。 By mere accident。' 'What accident？'
'Solely the accident of ing upon you in the street and seeing the
meeting。'
'Do you speak of yourself； or of some one else？'
'Of myself。 I saw it。'
'To be sure it was in the open street；' she observed； after a few
moments of less and less angry reflection。 'Fifty people might have seen
it。 It would have signified nothing if they had。'
'Nor do I make my having seen it of any moment； nor （otherwise than as
an explanation of my ing here） do I connect my visit with it or the
favour that I have to ask。'
'Oh！ You have to ask a favour！ It occurred to me；' and the handsome face
looked bitterly at him； 'that your manner was softened； Mr Clennam。'
He was content to protest against this by a slight action without
contesting it in words。 He then referred to Blandois' disappearance； of
which it was probable she had heard？ However probable it was to him； she
had heard of no such thing。 Let him look round him （she said） and judge
for himself what general intelligence was likely to reach the ears of
a woman who had been shut up there while it was rife； devouring her own
heart。 When she had uttered this denial； which he believed to be true；
she asked him what he meant by disappearance？ That led to his narrating
the circumstances in detail； and expressing something of his anxiety
to discover what had really bee of the man； and to repel the dark
suspicions that clouded about his mother's house。 She heard him with
evident surprise； and with more marks of suppressed interest than he
had seen in her； still they did not overe her distant； proud； and
self…secluded manner。 When he had finished； she said nothing but these
words：
'You have not yet told me； sir； what I have to do with it； or what the
favour is？ Will you be so good as e to that？'
'I assume；' said Arthur； persevering； in his endeavour to soften
her scornful demeanour； 'that being in munication……may I say；
confidential munication？……with this person……'
'You may say； of course； whatever you like；' she remarked； 'but I do not
subscribe to your assumptions； Mr Clennam； or to any one's。'
'……that being； at least in personal munication with him；' said
Clennam； changing the form of his position in the hope of making
it unobjectionable； 'you can tell me something of his antecedents；
pursuits； habits； usual place of residence。 Can give me some little clue
by which to seek him out in the likeliest manner； and either produce
him； or establish what has bee of him。 This is the favour I ask；
and I ask it in a distress of mind for which I hope you will feel some
consideration。 If you should have any reason for imposing conditions
upon me； I will respect it without asking what it is。'
'You chanced to see me in the street with the man；' she observed；
after being； to his mortification； evidently more occupied with her own
reflections on the matter than with his appeal。 'Then you knew the man
before？'
'Not before； afterwards。 I never saw him before； but I saw him again on
this very night of his disappearance。 In my mother's room； in fact。 I
left him there。 You will read in this paper all that is known of him。'
He handed her one of the printed bills； which she read with a steady and
attentive face。
'This is more than I knew of him；' she said； giving it back。
Clennam's looks expressed his heavy disappointment； perhaps his
incredulity； for she added in the same unsympathetic tone： 'You don't
believe it。 Still； it is so。 As to personal munication： it seems that
there was personal munication between him and your mother。 And yet
you say you believe her declaration that she knows no more of him！'
A sufficiently expressive hint of suspicion was conveyed in these words；
and in the smile by which they were acpanied； to bring the blood into
Clennam's cheeks。
'e； sir；' she said； with a cruel pleasure in repeating the stab； 'I
will be as open with you as you can desire。 I will confess that if I
cared for my credit （which I do not）； or had a good name to preserve
（which I have not； for I am utterly indifferent to its being considered
good or bad）； I should regard myself as heavily promised by having
had anything to do with this fellow。 Yet he never passed in at MY
door……never sat in colloquy with ME until midnight。'
She took her revenge for her old grudge in thus turning his subject
against him。 Hers was not the nature to spare him； and she had no
punction。
'That he is a low； mercenary wretch； that I first saw him prowling about
Italy （where I was； not long ago）； and that I hired him there； as the
suitable instrument of a purpose I happened to have； I have no objection
to tell you。 In short； it was worth my while； for my own pleasure……the
gratification of a strong feeling……to pay a spy who would fetch and
carry for money。 I paid this creature。 And I dare say that if I had
wanted to make such a bargain； and if I could have paid him enough； and
if he could have done it in the dark； free from all risk； he would have
taken any life with as little scruple as he took my money。 That； at
least； is my opinion of him； and I see it is not very far removed from
yours。 Your mother's opinion of him； I am to assume （following your
example of assuming this and that）； was vastly different。'
'My mother； let me remind you；' said Clennam； 'was first brought into
munication with him in the unlucky course of business。'
'It appears to have been an unlucky course of business that last brought
her into munication with him；' returned Miss Wade； 'and business
hours on that occasion were late。'
'You imply；' said Arthur； smarting under these cool…handed thrusts； of
which he had dee