'Oh, that's wot you're aimin' at, is it?' said Sam. 'Good-bye!'
'Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round;
'my duty to your gov'nor, and tell him if he thinks better o' this
here bis'ness, to com-moonicate vith me. Me and a cab'net-
maker has dewised a plan for gettin' him out. A pianner, Samivel
--a pianner!' said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest with
the back of his hand, and falling back a step or two.
'Wot do you mean?' said Sam.
'A pianner-forty, Samivel,' rejoined Mr. Weller, in a still more
mysterious manner, 'as he can have on hire; vun as von't play, Sammy.'
'And wot 'ud be the good o' that?' said Sam.
'Let him send to my friend, the cabinet-maker, to fetch it back,
Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Are you avake, now?'
'No,' rejoined Sam.
'There ain't no vurks in it,' whispered his father. 'It 'ull hold
him easy, vith his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs,
vich his holler. Have a passage ready taken for 'Merriker. The
'Merrikin gov'ment will never give him up, ven vunce they find
as he's got money to spend, Sammy. Let the gov'nor stop there,
till Mrs. Bardell's dead, or Mr.
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