Boffin, retiring on his other idea. 'Could you be got
to do so, till the Mounds are gone?'

No. That would protract the mental uneasiness of Mr Venus too long, he
said.

'Not if I was to show you reason now?' demanded Mr Boffin; 'not if I was
to show you good and sufficient reason?'

If by good and sufficient reason Mr Boffin meant honest and
unimpeachable reason, that might weigh with Mr Venus against his
personal wishes and convenience. But he must add that he saw no opening
to the possibility of such reason being shown him.

'Come and see me, Venus,' said Mr Boffin, 'at my house.'

'Is the reason there, sir?' asked Mr Venus, with an incredulous smile
and blink.

'It may be, or may not be,' said Mr Boffin, 'just as you view it. But
in the meantime don't go out of the matter. Look here. Do this. Give me
your word that you won't take any steps with Wegg, without my knowledge,
just as I have given you my word that I won't without yours.'

'Done, Mr Boffin!' said Venus, after brief consideration.

'Thank'ee, Venus, thank'ee, Venus! Done!'

'When shall I come to see you, Mr Boffin.'

'When you like. The sooner the better. I must be going now. Good-night,
Venus.'

'Good-night, sir.'

'And good-night to the rest of the present company,' said Mr Boffin,
glancing round the shop. 'They make a queer show, Venus, and I should
like to be better acquainted with them some day. Good-night, Venus,
good-night! Thankee, Venus, thankee, Venus!' With that he jogged out
into the street, and jogged upon his homeward way.

'Now, I wonder,' he meditated as he went along, nursing his stick,
'whether it can be, that Venus is setting himself to get the better of
Wegg? Whether it can be, that he means, when I have bought Wegg out, to
have me all to himself and to pick me clean to the bones!'

It was a cunning and suspicious idea, quite in the way of his school
of Misers, and he looked very cunning and suspicious as he went jogging
through the streets. More than once or twice, more than twice or thrice,
say half a dozen times, he took his stick from the arm on which he
nursed it, and hit a straight sharp rap at the air with its head.
Possibly the wooden countenance of Mr Silas Wegg was incorporeally
before him at those moments, for he hit with intense satisfaction.

He was within a few streets of his own house, when a little private
carriage, coming in the contrary direction, passed him, turned round,
and passed him again. It w