Works of Charles Dickens - Charles Dickens [5509]
'There!' cried Mr Boffin. 'Even from him, you see! There was only two of 'em, and yet one of 'em hid from the other.'
Mr Venus, who since his introduction to the French gentleman, had been stooping to peer up the chimney, had his attention recalled by the last sentence, and took the liberty of repeating it.
'Do you like it?' asked Mr Boffin, turning suddenly.
'I beg your pardon, sir?'
'Do you like what Wegg's been a-reading?'
Mr Venus answered that he found it extremely interesting.
'Then come again,' said Mr Boffin, 'and hear some more. Come when you like; come the day after to-morrow, half an hour sooner. There's plenty more; there's no end to it.'
Mr Venus expressed his acknowledgments and accepted the invitation.
'It's wonderful what's been hid, at one time and another,' said Mr Boffin, ruminating; 'truly wonderful.'
'Meaning sir,' observed Wegg, with a propitiatory face to draw him out, and with another peg at his friend and brother, 'in the way of money?'
'Money,' said Mr Boffin. 'Ah! And papers.'
Mr Wegg, in a languid transport, again dropped over on Mr Venus, and again recovering himself, masked his emotions with a sneeze.
'Tish-ho! Did you say papers too, sir? Been hidden, sir?'
'Hidden and forgot,' said Mr Boffin. 'Why the bookseller that sold me the Wonderful Museum--where's the Wonderful Museum?' He was on his knees on the floor in a moment, groping eagerly among the books.
'Can I assist you, sir?' asked Wegg.
'No, I have got it; here it is,' said Mr Boffin, dusting it with the sleeve of his coat. 'Wollume four. I know it was the fourth wollume, that the bookseller read it to me out of. Look for it, Wegg.'
Silas took the book and turned the leaves.
'Remarkable petrefaction, sir?'
'No, that's not it,' said Mr Boffin. 'It can't have been a petrefaction.'
'Memoirs of General John Reid, commonly called The Walking Rushlight, sir? With portrait?'
'No, nor yet him,' said Mr Boffin.
'Remarkable case of a person who swallowed a crown-piece, sir?'
'To hide it?' asked Mr Boffin.
'Why, no, sir,' replied Wegg, consulting the text, 'it appears to have been done by accident. Oh! This next must be it. "Singular discovery of a will, lost twenty-one years."'
'That's it!' cried Mr Boffin. 'Read that.'
'"A most extraordinary case,"' read Silas Wegg aloud, '"was tried at the last Maryborough assizes in Ireland. It was briefly this. Robert Baldwin, in March 1782, made his will, in which he devised the lands now in question, to the children of his youngest son; soon after which his faculties failed him, and he became altogether childish and died, above eighty years old. The defendant, the eldest son, immediately afterwards gave out that his father had destroyed the will; and no will being found, he entered into possession of the lands in question, and so matters remained for twenty-one years, the whole family during all that time believing that the father had died without a will. But after twenty-one years the defendant's wife died, and he very soon afterwards, at the age of seventy-eight, married a very young woman: which caused some anxiety to his two sons, whose poignant expressions of this feeling so exasperated their father, that he in his resentment executed a will to disinherit his eldest son, and in his fit of anger showed it to his second son, who instantly determined to get at it, and destroy it, in order to preserve the property to his brother. With this view, he broke open his father's desk, where he found--not his father's will which he sought after, but the will of his grandfather, which was then altogether forgotten in the family."'
'There!' said Mr Boffin. 'See what men put away and forget, or mean to destroy, and don't!'