"Upon this the Aged- who I believe would have been blown out of his arm-chair but for holding on by the elbows- cried out exultingly, "He's fired! I heerd him!" and I nodded at the old gentleman until it is no figure of speech to declare that I absolutely could not see him."
Wemmick, as he came down, echoed my movements equally enthusiastically, but he was only able to demonstrate his enthusiasm for the task a short while before he was interrupted; a highly polished little bell hanging, among other contraptions, near the fireplace, began to ring. Wondering what astonishing new rituals this could signify, I made as if to rise, but the slight tightening of his mouth kept me seated. Surprised, I stilled my movements and glanced at the Aged. Unfortunately, the still very recent loud bang of the cannon had temporarily robbed all of his concentration, and as he was seated at the wrong angle to notice the swaying bell otherwise, was as yet unaware that anything had happened.
My curiosity heightening with each swing, I looked back at Wemmick and asked tentatively what the bell signified. He replied carefully, "That bell, sir, tells me something (most probably a person, but I try not to make assumptions) is waiting across the moat. I like to consider myself a generous and caring neighbor, but I am sure you agree that this is really too late in the evening for anyone respectable to be calling. And," he added, glancing with intent towards the rack of instruments I had always previously imagined were for stoking the fire, "I am not in the mood this evening to deal with anyone unrespectable. Unfortunately, the defense of the castle calls." He excused himself, and I presently heard him opening the small front door and projecting out, "Who calls?"
The reply was muffled, but my host's wordless soft cry was not. I worriedly braced myself and rose out of my chair with the intent to see what was the matter, and if I could help. As I entered the front hall for the first time (having come in from the arbor at the back, directly into the sitting room I had just departed), I registered the disgust in his voice as he noticed me and said, "It is my neighbor, Jonathan Lequs," at the same time I registered the old wooden walls, also highly polished but still decidedly dark, the bayonet hanging with a military leer on the left wall that was surprisingly reminiscent of Jagger's office, and the passable watercolor of the castle, done with a very bright green lawn, whose artist I was to meet on a later visit to the premises.
"What does he want?"
"I await his own response to that inquiry," he replied, his mouth now as tight as if we had never left the office.
At that moment, Mr. Lequs brayed across the moat, "I beg an audience of the master of this castle, he who is just now standing there, and was once my very good friend, and who, I know, will not refuse me as I call out to his sense of chivalry and decency, to ask him to let me speak my piece inside his illustrious home."
At this speech, my companion muttered to me, "Just like him, sir, to appeal to the sense of obligation to my fellow man I hold so dear while here at Walworth, when he knows he deserves no goodness whatsoever," but he went out to lower the drawbridge, re-secure it, and stiffly, with a heavy tread, escort the man into the front hall where I still stood waiting. There he stopped, with the clear intention of not letting this intriguing new guest come any further onto the premises.
As I caught my first clear glimpse of him, I saw why the word "bray" had come to mind when describing his speech; the man resembled nothing so much as a horse. Broad shoulders that wouldn't have looked out of place on Joe but stretched uneasily under his fashionable coat competed with a wide, flat nose and two very round and open nostrils as his most prominent features. Closer inspection revealed ink stains on his short, square hands and boots that had been scuffed and re-blackened with soot from the street. The scuffing probably came from his curious manner, evident the entire time he stood there, of tipping his ankle and knocking his toes against whatever surface he happened to be standing on, as a horse does when it walks. His eyes too were horse-like in their lack of whites, and peered around the room in brown intensity and triumph at having gained entrance.
"Mr. Lequs, may I introduce you to Mr. Pip?" Wemmick presented me stiffly. Mr. Lequs took my hand and bowed, and I answered his greetings as civilly as I could without unintentionally offending my host. The introductions now over, he looked around, and realizing that we were both standing staring, I in amazement, his "very great friend" with annoyance, he whuffed the air out of his nose softly, banged his toes a few more times, and began to speak.
"Despite our recent falling asunder, Wemmick, I have always held you in the highest of regards."
The object of his regard appeared not to be pleased.
"I am sorry for our old acquaintance that I cannot assume the same of you. Yet even so, I must beg you a favor. I had, before our parting, informed you that my dearly beloved wife was with child?"
The Wemmick I was more familiar with at this point would have skirted such a question, which forced him to reveal previous knowledge of an event explicitly. However, the Walworth Wemmick, apparently just confused as to the intent of this statement, merely gave a sharp nod.
"I remind you that I never expected her to acquiesce to my proposal, that her mother and father have not been with us but have rested in Heavenly Peace for many years, and that she is of a delicate constitution, easily susceptible to those pesky headaches and chills that plague the fairer sex. I therefore consider it my duty and responsibility," and here he stomped his foot, throwing his head back in a rear that left him glaring at Wemmick, "to look after her in every possible way. When I was simply your near neighbor, fellow military enthusiast, and a bachelor, I was honored to hear the regal blasts that sallied forth from your rooftop each evening. They added spice to the life of a man who could only read about battles, not participate in them. However, my wife is at this time very much in need of her rest and relaxation, in fact, was as much as ordered to have it by our sagacious family doctor. Yet every night, she is awakened by your cannon. I am begging you, my old friend, to consider the wisdom of pursuing your habit of firing it on a regular basis, here in this normally tranquil quarter of Town."
Here Wemmick interrupted him, a look of incredulity on his face, saying, "Is this true? You are asking me, while standing in my home as my guest, to change my daily customs? For a man who earns his living teaching others, you show a severe lack of culture and manners yourself! Halt my activities, indeed," he finished with a frown.
"You must admit, my dear sir, it is a wonder our other neighbors have not complained already. And am I, who was once so far in your confidence as to allow me to make my own suggestions regarding your magnificent home, to be dismissed out of hand? I, who gifted you the bayonet that hangs upon these walls, which I trusted to your keeping when I left behind my dreams of joining the army to marry Sarah? You must consider my plea, for the sake of both this new mother-to-be and I!"
"I must do no such thing! The last time I took your advice, it nearly cost me my job! In the past, you came into my house as my friend, a sort of kindred soul, but allowed the resentment of my success in my job to boil in your gut and spew forth in poor ideas to misguide me. It will not happen again."
"It was not malicious, my dear John, it was a blunder! And for my blunder I beg your forgiveness," Mr. Lequs rejoined quickly, passionately, "I beg your forgiveness a thousand times."
Now they stood silent, apparently having forgotten I was there. But as I watched the two former companions, it seemed that Wemmick was softening. The new man I was beginning to discover at the castle could not remain hard-hearted long. He spoke again, his voice now a confusing mix of emotions as he said, "I will not stop the canon fire." Mr. Lequs made as if to turn and leave, until Wemmick continued, "But I might be able to help your wife."
Here his ears perked up as his whole head lifted to stare again at Wemmick. "How?"
"I will come to your house, next Saturday say, and rebuild the walls of your wife's room to stop sound. I suppose I can do that much. After all, my carpentry skills are rusting now that Walworth is completed, of course."
"Of course!" Mr. Lequs said, happier now. "And are we friends again?"
"Of course, John the Deux." And here they clasped hands and shook vigorously. The man Lequs, with such a flowery personality despite his outward appearance, appeared ready to burst into tears, while this Wemmick seemed to have no consciousness of the other facet of his personality that was confused by the action in Barnard's Inn.
As they took their leave of each other, I was once again included on the rim of the conversation, and soon Jonathan Lequs left with a promise of a day soon by when "H" would come to start work. The latter now turned to me, his face slightly pink.
"I am mortified that you just saw me in such an emotional state. Would you kindly please put it aside as one of my Walworth sentiments, and let the incident fade from your mind?"
"Of course," I promised as we walked back in to the Aged.
"The interval between that time and supper Wemmick devoted to showing me his collection of curiosities."