'A private interview?'
'A private interview,' replied Mr. Pickwick firmly; 'only, as a
part of the information which I wish to communicate is derived
from my servant, I should wish him to be present.'
The magistrate looked at Mr. Jinks; Mr. Jinks looked at the
magistrate; the officers looked at each other in amazement.
Mr. Nupkins turned suddenly pale. Could the man Weller, in a
moment of remorse, have divulged some secret conspiracy for his
assassination? It was a dreadful thought. He was a public man;
and he turned paler, as he thought of Julius Caesar and Mr. Perceval.
The magistrate looked at Mr. Pickwick again, and beckoned
Mr. Jinks.
'What do you think of this request, Mr. Jinks?' murmured
Mr. Nupkins.
Mr. Jinks, who didn't exactly know what to think of it, and
was afraid he might offend, smiled feebly, after a dubious
fashion, and, screwing up the corners of his mouth, shook his
head slowly from side to side.
'Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate gravely, 'you are an ass.'
At this little expression of opinion, Mr. Jinks smiled again--
rather more feebly than before--and edged himself, by degrees,
back into his own corner.
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