“I say, my dear Sir,” resumed the little man, who seemed to gather confidence from the snuff⁠—“I say, that her speedy liberation or perpetual imprisonment rests with you, and with you alone. Hear me out, my dear Sir, if you please, and do not be so very energetic, for it will only put you into a perspiration and do no good whatever. I say,” continued Perker, checking off each position on a different finger, as he laid it down⁠—“I say that nobody but you can rescue her from this den of wretchedness; and that you can only do that, by paying the costs of this suit⁠—both of plaintive and defendant⁠—into the hands of these Freeman Court sharks. Now pray be quiet, my dear sir.”

Mr. Pickwick, whose face had been undergoing most surprising changes during this speech, and was evidently on the verge of a strong burst of indignation, calmed his wrath as well as he could. Perker, strengthening his argumentative powers with another pinch of snuff, proceeded⁠—