Mr Pecksniff shrugged his shoulders as though he would say ′I know there is such a person, and I am sorry for it.′
′Very good,′ remarked the gentleman. ′That is my interest and business here.′ With that he made another dive for his shirt-collar and brought up a string.
′Now, this is very distressing, my friend,′ said Mr Pecksniff, shaking his head and smiling composedly. ′It is very distressing to me, to be compelled to say that you are not the person you claim to be. I know Mr Slyme, my friend; this will not do; honesty is the best policy you had better not; you had indeed.′
′Stop′ cried the gentleman, stretching forth his right arm, which was so tightly wedged into his threadbare sleeve that it looked like a cloth sausage. ′Wait a bit!′
He paused to establish himself immediately in front of the fire with his back towards it. Then gathering the skirts of his coat under his left arm, and smoothing his moustache with his right thumb and forefinger, he resumed:
′I understand your mistake, and I am not offended. Why? Because it′s complimentary. You suppose I would set myself up for Chevy Slyme. Sir, if there is a man on earth whom a gentleman would feel proud and honoured to be mistaken for, that man is my friend Slyme. For he is, without an exception, the highest-minded, the most independent-spirited, most original, spiritual, classical, talented, the most thoroughly Shakspearian, if not Miltonic, and at the same time the most disgustingly-unappreciated dog I know. But, sir, I have not the vanity to attempt to pass for Slyme. Any other man in the wide world, I am equal to; but Slyme is, I frankly confess, a great many cuts above me. Therefore you are wrong.′
′I judged from this,′ said Mr Pecksniff, holding out the cover of the letter.
′No doubt you did,′ returned the gentleman. ′But, Mr Pecksniff, the whole thing resolves itself into an instance of the peculiarities of genius. Every man of true genius has his peculiarity. Sir, the peculiarity of my friend Slyme is, that he is always waiting round the corner. He is perpetually round the corner, sir. He is round the corner at this instant. Now,′ said the gentleman, shaking his forefinger before his nose, and planting his legs wider apart as he looked attentively in Mr Pecksniff′s face, ′that is a remarkably curious and interesting trait in Mr Slyme′s character; and whenever Slyme′s life comes to be written, that trait must be thoroughly worked out by his biographer or society will not be satisfied. Observe me, society will not be satisfied!′
Mr Pecksniff coughed.
′Slyme′s biographer, sir, whoever he may be,′ resumed the gentleman, ′must apply to me; or, if I am gone to that what′s-his-name from which no thingumbob comes back, he must apply to my executors for leave to search among my papers. I have taken a few notes in my poor way, of some of that man′s proceedings—my adopted brother, sir,—which would amaze you. He made use of an expression, sir, only on the fifteenth of last month when he couldn′t meet a little bill and the other party wouldn′t renew, which would have done honour to Napoleon Bonaparte in addressing the French army.
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