Having once got him into this mood,
and knowing now the key-note to strike whenever he was at a loss,
Daniel Quilp's task was comparatively an easy one, and he was
soon in possession of the whole details of the scheme contrived
between the easy Dick and his more designing friend.
'Stop!' said Quilp. 'That's the thing, that's the thing. It can be
brought about, it shall be brought about. There's my hand upon it;
I am your friend from this minute.'
'What! do you think there's still a chance?' inquired Dick, in
surprise at this encouragement.
'A chance!' echoed the dwarf, 'a certainty! Sophy Wackles may
become a Cheggs or anything else she likes, but not a Swiveller.
Oh you lucky dog! He's richer than any Jew alive; you're a
made man. I see in you now nothing but Nelly's husband, rolling
in gold and silver. I'll help you. It shall be done. Mind my words,
it shall be done.'
'But how?' said Dick.
'There's plenty of time,' rejoined the dwarf, 'and it shall be
done. We'll sit down and talk it over again all the way through.
Fill your glass while I'm gone.
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