“What business?” inquired Mr. Pickwick. “ Mrs. Bardell’s costs?”

“No, I don’t mean that,” replied Mr. Lowten. “About getting that customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the bill-discounter for, on your account⁠—to get him out of the Fleet, you know⁠—about getting him to Demerara.”

“Oh, Mr. Jingle,” said Mr. Pickwick hastily. “Yes. Well?”

“Well, it’s all arranged,” said Lowten, mending his pen. “The agent at Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many times when you were in business, and he would be glad to take him on your recommendation.”