“Ask⁠— Heep ⁠— Mr. Traddles, who lived in his house after him,” said Mr. Micawber, breaking off from the letter; “will you?”

“The fool himself⁠—and lives there now,” said Uriah, disdainfully.

“Ask⁠— Heep ⁠—if he ever kept a pocketbook in that house,” said Mr. Micawber; “will you?”

I saw Uriah’s lank hand stop, involuntarily, in the scraping of his chin.