Mr. Swiveller turned to the dwarf and, stooping down, whispered audibly in his ear.  “The watchword to the old min is—­fork.”

“Is what?” demanded Quilp, for that—­Daniel Quilp—­was the dwarf’s name.

“Is fork, sir, fork,” replied Mr. Swiveller, slapping his pocket.  “You are awake, sir?”

The dwarf nodded; the grandson, having announced his intention of repeating his visit, left the house accompanied by his friend.

“So much for dear relations,” said Quilp, with a sour look.  He put his hand into his breast, and pulled out a bag.  “Here, I brought it myself, as, being in gold, it was too large and heavy for Nell to carry.  I would I knew in what good investment all these supplies are sunk.  But you are a deep man, and keep your secret close.”

“My secret!” said the old man, with a haggard look.  “Yes, you’re right—­I keep it close—­very close.”

He said no more, but, taking the money, locked it in an iron safe.

That night, as on many a night previous, Nell’s grandfather went out, leaving the child in the strange house alone, to return in the early morning.

Quilp, to whom the old man had again applied for money, learnt of these nocturnal expeditions, and sent no answer, but came in person to the old curiosity shop.

The old man was feverish and excited as he impatiently addressed the dwarf.

“Have you brought me any money?”

“No,” returned Quilp.

“Then,” said the old man, clenching his hands, “the child and I are lost.  No recompense for the time and money lost!”

“Neighbour,” said Quilp, “you have no secret from me now.  I know that all those sums of money you have had from me have found their way to the gamingtable.”

“I never played for gain of mine, or love of play,” cried the old man fiercely.  “My winnings would have been bestowed to the last farthing on a young sinless child, whose life they would have sweetened and made happy.  But I never won.”

“Dear me!” said Quilp.  “The last advance was L70, and it went in one night.  And so it comes to pass that I hold every security you could scrape together, and a bill of sale upon the stock and property.”

So saying, he nodded, deaf to all entreaties for further loans, and took his leave.

The house was no longer theirs.  Mr. Quilp encamped on the premises, and the goods were sold.  A day was fixed for their removal.

“Grandfather, let us begone from this place,” said little Nell; “let us wander barefoot through the world, rather than linger here.”

“We will,” answered the old man.  “We will travel afoot through the fields and woods, and by the side of rivers and trust ourselves to God.  Thou and I together, Nell, may be cheerful and happy yet, and learn to forget this time, as if it had never been.”

II.—­Messrs. Codlin and Short

The sun was setting when little Nell and her grandfather, who had been wandering many days, reached the wicket gate of a country churchyard.