THE riCKWICK CI.UM. 323
" I don't think they could," said Mr. Pickwick ; smilinpf, despite his vexation, at the idea of Sam's appearance as a witness, " What course do we pursue ? **
" We have only one to adopt, my dear Sir," replied Perker ; ** cross- examine the witnesses, trust to Snubbin's eloquence, throw dust in the eyes of the judge ; and ourselves on the jury."
" And suppose the verdict is against me ?" said Mr. Pickwick.
Mr. Perker smiled, took a very long pinch of snuff, stirred the fire, shrugged his shoulders, and remained expressively silent.
- ' You mean that in that case I must pay the damages ? " said Mr.
Pickwick, who had watched this telegraphic answer with considerable sternness.
Perker gave the fire another very unnecessary poke, and said " I am afraid so."
" Then I beg to announce to you, my unalterable determination to pay no damages whatever," said Mr. Pickwick most emphatically.
- ' None, Perker. Not a pound, not a penny, of my money shall find its
way into the pockets of Dodson and Fogg. That is my deliberate and irrevocable determination." And Mr. Pickwick gave a heavy blow on the table beside him, in confirmation of the irrevocability of his intention.
" Very well, my dear Sir, very well," said Perker. *' You know best, of course."
" Of course," replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. *• Where does Serjeant Snubbin live ? "
- In Lincoln's Inn Old Square," replied Perker.
" I should like to see him," said Mr. Pickwick.
" See Serjeant Snubbin, my dear Sir ! " rejoined Perker, in utter amazement. " Pooh, pooh, my dear Sir, impossible. See Serjeant Snubbin ! Bless you, my dear Sir, such a thing was never heard of, without a consultation fee being previously paid, and a consultation fixed. It couldn't be done, my dear Sir ; it couldn't be done."
Mr. Pickwick, however, had made up his mind not only that it could bfe done, but that it should be done ; and the consequence was, that within ten minutes after he had received the assurance that the thing was impossible, he was conducted by his solicitor into the outer office of the great Serjeant Snubbin himself.
It was an uncarpeted room of tolerable dimensions, with a large writing-table drawn up near the fire, the baize top of which had long since lost all claim to its original hue of green, and had gradually grown grey with dust and age, except where all traces of its natural colour were obliterated by ink-stains. Upon the table were numerous little bundles of papers tied with red tape ; and behind it, sat an elderly clerk, whose sleek appearance and heavy gold watch-chain presented imposing indications of the extensive and lucrative practice of Mr. Serjeant Snubbin.
"Is the Serjeant in his room, Mr. Mallard?" inquired Perker, ofiering his box with all imaginable courtesy.
" Yes he is," was the reply, " but he's very busy. Look here ; not
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