Hear
me.'

'Sir,' said Mr. Winkle, trembling from head to foot, 'before I consent
to sit down beside, or opposite you, without the presence of a waiter, I
must be secured by some further understanding. You used a threat against
me last night, Sir, a dreadful threat, Sir.' Here Mr. Winkle turned very
pale indeed, and stopped short.

'I did,' said Dowler, with a countenance almost as white as Mr.
Winkle's. 'Circumstances were suspicious. They have been explained.
I respect your bravery. Your feeling is upright. Conscious innocence.
There's my hand. Grasp it.'

'Really, Sir,' said Mr. Winkle, hesitating whether to give his hand or
not, and almost fearing that it was demanded in order that he might be
taken at an advantage, 'really, Sir, I--'

'I know what you mean,' interposed Dowler. 'You feel aggrieved. Very
natural. So should I. I was wrong. I beg your pardon. Be friendly.
Forgive me.' With this, Dowler fairly forced his hand upon Mr. Winkle,
and shaking it with the utmost vehemence, declared he was a fellow of
extreme spirit, and he had a higher opinion of him than ever.

'Now,' said Dowler, 'sit down. Relate it all. How did you find me? When
did you follow? Be frank. Tell me.'

'It's quite accidental,' replied Mr. Winkle, greatly perplexed by the
curious and unexpected nature of the interview. 'Quite.'

'Glad of it,' said Dowler. 'I woke this morning. I had forgotten my
threat. I laughed at the accident. I felt friendly. I said so.'

'To whom?' inquired Mr. Winkle.

'To Mrs. Dowler. "You made a vow," said she. "I did," said I. "It was a
rash one," said she. "It was," said I. "I'll apologise. Where is he?"'

'Who?' inquired Mr. Winkle.

'You,' replied Dowler. 'I went downstairs. You were not to be found.
Pickwick looked gloomy. Shook his head. Hoped no violence would be
committed. I saw it all. You felt yourself insulted. You had gone, for
a friend perhaps. Possibly for pistols. "High spirit," said I. "I admire
him."'

Mr. Winkle coughed, and beginning to see how the land lay, assumed a
look of importance.

'I left a note for you,' resumed Dowler. 'I said I was sorry. So I was.
Pressing business called me here. You were not satisfied. You followed.
You required a verbal explanation. You were right. It's all over now. My
business is finished. I go back to-morrow. Join me.'

As Dowler progressed in his explanation, Mr. Winkle's countenance grew
more and more dignified. The mysterious nature of the comm