Page 117 - bleak-house

Richard, aside.
I ventured to inquire, generally, before replying, what
would happen if the money were not produced.
‘Jail,’ said the strange man, coolly putting his handker-
chief into his hat, which was on the floor at his feet. ‘Or
Coavinses.’
‘May I ask, sir, what is—‘
‘Coavinses?’ said the strange man. ‘A ‘ouse.’
Richard and I looked at one another again. It was a most
singular thing that the arrest was our embarrassment and
not Mr. Skimpole’s. He observed us with a genial interest,
but there seemed, if I may venture on such a contradiction,
nothing selfish in it. He had entirely washed his hands of
the difficulty, and it had become ours.
‘I thought,’ he suggested, as if good-naturedly to help
us out, ‘that being parties in a Chancery suit concerning
(as people say) a large amount of property, Mr. Richard
or his beautiful cousin, or both, could sign something, or
make over something, or give some sort of undertaking, or
pledge, or bond? I don’t know what the business name of it
may be, but I suppose there is some instrument within their
power that would settle this?’
‘Not a bit on it,’ said the strange man.
‘Really?’ returned Mr. Skimpole. ‘That seems odd, now,
to one who is no judge of these things!’
‘Odd or even,’ said the stranger gruffly, ‘I tell you, not a
bit on it!’
‘Keep your temper, my good fellow, keep your temper!’
Mr. Skimpole gently reasoned with him as he made a lit-

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