First, he took the two secret men.

“Now, I have nothing to say to you,” said Mr. Jaggers, throwing his finger at them.  “I want to know no more than I know.  As to the result, it’s a toss-up.  I told you from the first it was a toss-up.  Have you paid Wemmick?”

“We made the money up this morning, sir,” said one of the men, submissively, while the other perused Mr. Jaggers’s face.

“I don’t ask you when you made it up, or where, or whether you made it up at all.  Has Wemmick got it?”

“Yes, sir,” said both the men together.

“Very well; then you may go.  Now, I won’t have it!” said Mr Jaggers, waving his hand at them to put them behind him.  “If you say a word to me, I’ll throw up the case.”

“We thought, Mr. Jaggers—­” one of the men began, pulling off his hat.

“That’s what I told you not to do,” said Mr. Jaggers.  “You thought!  I think for you; that’s enough for you.  If I want you, I know where to find you; I don’t want you to find me.  Now I won’t have it.  I won’t hear a word.”

The two men looked at one another as Mr. Jaggers waved them behind again, and humbly fell back and were heard no more.

“And now you!” said Mr. Jaggers, suddenly stopping, and turning on the two women with the shawls, from whom the three men had meekly separated. — “Oh!  Amelia, is it?”

“Yes, Mr. Jaggers.”

“And do you remember,” retorted Mr. Jaggers, “that but for me you wouldn’t be here and couldn’t be here?”

“Oh yes, sir!” exclaimed both women together.  “Lord bless you, sir, well we knows that!”

“Then why,” said Mr. Jaggers, “do you come here?”

“My Bill, sir!” the crying woman pleaded.

“Now, I tell you what!” said Mr. Jaggers.  “Once for all.  If you don’t know that your Bill’s in good hands, I know it.  And if you come here, bothering about your Bill, I’ll make an example of both your Bill and you, and let him slip through my fingers.  Have you paid Wemmick?”

“Oh yes, sir!  Every farden.”

“Very well.  Then you have done all you have got to do.  Say another word — one single word — and Wemmick shall give you your money back.”

This terrible threat caused the two women to fall off immediately.  No one remained now but the excitable Jew, who had already raised the skirts of Mr. Jaggers’s coat to his lips several times.

“I don’t know this man!” said Mr. Jaggers, in the same devastating strain:  “What does this fellow want?”

“Ma thear Mithter Jaggerth.  Hown brother to Habraham Latharuth?”

“Who’s he?” said Mr. Jaggers.  “Let go of my coat.”

The suitor, kissing the hem of the garment again before relinquishing it, replied, “Habraham Latharuth, on thuthpithion of plate.”

“You’re too late,” said Mr. Jaggers.  “I am over the way.”

“Holy father, Mithter Jaggerth!” cried my excitable acquaintance, turning white, “don’t thay you’re again Habraham Latharuth!”