There never had been before, and there never would be again, such an opportunity for the investment of a considerable sum (the rate of advantage increased in proportion to the amount invested), as at that moment. The only time that had at all approached it, was the time when Jonas had come into the concern; which made him illnatured now, and inclined him to pick out a doubt in this place, and a flaw in that, and grumbling to advise Mr. Pecksniff to think better of it. The sum which would complete the proprietorship in this snug concern, was nearly equal to Mr. Pecksniff's whole hoard: not counting Mr. Chuzzlewit, that is to say, whom he looked upon as money in the Bank, the possession of which inclined him the more to make a dash with his own private sprats for the capture of such a whale as Mr. Montague described. The returns began almost immediately, and were immense. The end of it was, that Mr. Pecksniff agreed to become the last partner and proprietor in the Anglo-Bengalee, and made an appointment to dine with Mr. Montague, at Salisbury, on the next day but one, then and there to complete the negotiation.
It took so long to bring the subject to this head, that it was nearly midnight when they parted. When Mr. Pecksniff walked downstairs to the door, he found Mrs. Lupin standing there, looking out.
`Ah, my good friend!' he said. `not a-bed yet! Contemplating the stars, Mrs. Lupin?'
`It's a beautiful starlight night, sir.'
`A beautiful starlight night,' said Mr. Pecksniff, looking up. `Behold the planets, how they shine! Behold the--those two persons who were here this morning have left your house, I hope, Mrs. Lupin?'
`Yes, sir. They are gone.'
`I am glad to hear it,' said Mr. Pecksniff. `Behold the wonders of the firmament, Mrs. Lupin! how glorious is the scene! When I look up at those shining orbs, I think that each of them is winking to the other to take notice of the vanity of men's pursuits. My fellowmen!' cried Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his head in pity; `you are much mistaken; my wormy relatives, you are much deceived! The stars are perfectly contented (I suppose so) in their several spheres. Why are not you? oh! do not strive and struggle to enrich yourselves) or to get the better of each other, my deluded friends, but look up there, with me!'
Mrs. Lupin shook her head, and heaved a sigh. It was very affecting.
`Look up there, with me!' repeated Mr. Pecksniff, stretching out his hand; `With me, an humble individual who is also an insect like yourselves.
Can silver, gold, or precious stones, sparkle like those constellations!
I think not then do not thirst for silver, gold, or precious stones; but look up there, with me!'
With those words, the good man patted Mrs. Lupin's hand between his own, as if he would have added `think of this, my good woman!' and walked away in a sort of ecstasy or rapture, with his hat under his arm.
Jonas sat in the attitude in which Mr. Pecksniff had left him, gazing moodily at his friend: who, surrounded by a heap of documents, was writing something on an oblong slip of paper.
`You mean to wait at Salisbury over the day after to-morrow, do you, then?' said Jonas.
`You heard our appointment,' returned Montague, without raising his eyes. `In any case I should have waited to see after the boy.'
They appeared to have changed places again; Montague being in high spirits;
Jonas gloomy and lowering.
`You don't want me, I suppose?' said Jonas.
`I want you to put your name here,' he returned, glancing at him with a smile, `as soon as I have filled up the stamp. I may as well have your note of hand for that extra capital. That's all I want. If you wish to go home, I can manage Mr. Pecksniff now, alone. There is a perfect understanding between us.'
Jonas sat scowling at him as he wrote, in silence. When he had finished his writing, and had dried it on the blotting paper in his travelling-desk; he looked up, and tossed the pen towards him.
`What, not a day's grace, not a day's trust, eh?' said Jonas bitterly.
`Not after the pains I have taken with to-night's work?'
`To night's work was a part of our bargain,' replied Montague; `and so was this.'
`You drive a hard bargain,' said Jonas, advancing to the table. `You know best. Give it here!'
Montague gave him the paper. After pausing as if he could not make up his mind to put his name to it, Jonas dipped his pen hastily in the nearest inkstand, and began to write. But he had scarcely marked the paper when he started back, in a panic.
`Why, what the devil's this?' he said. `It's bloody!'
He had dipped the pen, as another moment showed, into red ink. But he attached a strange degree of importance to the mistake. He asked how it had come there, who had brought it, why it had been brought; and looked at Montague, at first, as if he thought he had put a trick upon him. Even when he used a different pen, and the right ink, he made some scratches on another paper first, as half believing they would turn red also.
`Black enough, this time,' he said, handing the note to Montague. `Good-bye.'
`Going now! how do you mean to get away from here?'
`I shall cross early in the morning to the high road, before you are out of bed; and catch the day-coach, going up. good-bye!'
`You are in a hurry!'
`I have Something to do,' said Jonas. `good-bye!'
His friend looked after him as he went out, in surprise, which gradually gave place to an air of satisfaction and relief.
`It happens all the better. It brings about what I wanted, without any difficulty. I shall travel home alone.'
