That's law.
Some people maintains that an Englishman's house is his castle.
That's gammon.'
The Pickwickians gazed on each other with wondering eyes.
'Which is Mr. Tupman?' inquired Mr. Grummer. He had an
intuitive perception of Mr. Pickwick; he knew him at once.
'My name's Tupman,' said that gentleman.
'My name's Law,' said Mr. Grummer.
'What?' said Mr. Tupman.
'Law,' replied Mr. Grummer--'Law, civil power, and exekative;
them's my titles; here's my authority. Blank Tupman, blank
Pickwick--against the peace of our sufferin' lord the king--
stattit in the case made and purwided--and all regular. I apprehend
you Pickwick! Tupman--the aforesaid.'
'What do you mean by this insolence?' said Mr. Tupman,
starting up; 'leave the room!'
'Hollo,' said Mr. Grummer, retreating very expeditiously to
the door, and opening it an inch or two, 'Dubbley.'
'Well,' said a deep voice from the passage.
'Come for'ard, Dubbley.'
At the word of command, a dirty-faced man, something over
six feet high, and stout in proportion, squeezed himself through
the half-open door (making his face very red in the process), and
entered the room.
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