It turned out that Mr. Dorrit, being of the Dorrits of Dorsetshire, was heir-at-law to a great fortune.  Inquiries and investigations confirmed it.

Arthur Clennam broke the news to Little Dorrit, and together they went to the, Marshalsea.  William Dorrit was sitting in his old grey gown and his old black cap in the sunlight by the window when they entered.  “Father, Mr. Clennam has brought me such joyful and wonderful intelligence about you!”

Her agitation was great, and the old man put his hand suddenly to his heart, and looked at Clennam.

“Tell me, Mr. Dorrit, what surprise would be the most unlocked for and the most acceptable to you.  Do not be afraid to imagine it, or to say what it would be.”

He looked steadfastly at Clennam, and, so looking at him, seemed to change into a very old, haggard man.  The sun was bright upon the wall beyond the window, and on the spikes at the top.  He slowly stretched out the hand that had been upon his heart, and pointed at the wall.

“It is down,” said Clennam.  “Gone!  And in its place are the means to possess and enjoy the utmost that they have so long shut out.  Mr. Dorrit, there is not the smallest doubt that within a few days you will be free and highly prosperous.”

They had to fetch wine for the old man, and when he had swallowed a little he leaned back in his chair and cried.  But he quickly recovered, and announced that everybody concerned should be nobly rewarded.

“No one, my dear sir, shall say that he has an unsatisfied claim against me.  Everybody shall be remembered.  I will not go away from here in anybody’s debt.  I particularly wish to act munificently, Mr. Clennam.”

Clennam’s offer of money for present contingencies was at once accepted.

“I am obliged to you for the temporary accommodation, sir.  Exceedingly temporary, but well timed—­well timed.  Be so kind, sir, as to add the amount to former advances.”

He grew more composed presently, and then when he seemed to be falling asleep unexpectedly sat up and said, “Mr. Clennam, am I to understand, my dear sir, that I could pass through the lodge at this moment, and take a walk?”

“I think not, Mr. Dorrit,” was the unwilling reply.  “There are certain forms to be completed.  It is but a few hours now.”

“A few hours, sir!” he returned in a sudden passion.  “You talk very easily of hours, sir!  How long do you suppose, sir, that an hour is to a man who is choking; for want of air?”

It was his last demonstration for that time, but in the interval before the day of his departure he was very imperious with the lawyers concerned in his release, and a good deal of business was transacted.

Mr. Arthur Clennam received a cheque for L24 93. 8d. from the solicitors of Edward Dorrit, Esq.—­once “Tip”—­with a note that the favour of the advance now repaid had not been asked of him.

To the applications made by collegians within the so-soon-to-be-orphaned Marshalsea for small sums of money, Mr. Dorrit responded with the greatest liberality.  He also invited the whole College to a comprehensive entertainment in the yard, and went about among the company on that occasion, and took notice of individuals, like a baron of the olden time, in a rare good humour.