“Yes, for debt, Sir,” replied Sam. “And the man as puts me in, ’ull never let me out till you go yourself.”

“Bless my heart and soul!” ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. “What do you mean?”

“Wot I say, Sir,” rejoined Sam. “If it’s forty years to come, I shall be a prisoner, and I’m very glad on it; and if it had been Newgate, it would ha’ been just the same. Now the murder’s out, and, damme, there’s an end on it!”

With these words, which he repeated with great emphasis and violence, Sam Weller dashed his hat upon the ground, in a most unusual state of excitement; and then, folding his arms, looked firmly and fixedly in his master’s face.