Original subtitles

(Smike whimpers)

(Footsteps and key turns in lock)

(Smike whimpers)

Ods-bobs, lad. Does not know me?

Browdie. I'm a friend.

Yes. Yes, I know you. Will you help me?

Thou didn't need help if thou weren't as daft a youngster as ever drawed breath.

- What's! you come here for'? - He brought me. Mr Squeers.

Brought thee? Why didn't you punch his head or lay down and kick and scream?

- He caught hold... - Shh!

Keep still. And don't speak another morsel or talk until I tell 'ee.

Here, see that?

That be thy doing. Now, cut away.

Cut, I said. Get back to your friend young Nickleby.

Tell him I'm spliced to Tilda Price and can be found at the Saracen's Head.

What you waiting for? Cut, I said!

But he'll hear me shut the door downstairs.

Then don't shut it. Thou aren't afraid of schoolmaster's catching cold?

He caught me before, and he will again.

- He will. I know he will. - Nay.

Not if thou keeps a good heart.

Come on, lad.

(Laughter and chatter)

(Smike whimpers)

Shh!

Hey!

Hello, sir. What's this? I'm surprised at you.

A countryman, a Yorkshireman that can't hold his ale?

There's no law, I hope, sir, that prevents a man from taking the ale.

No, no law, sir.

Your new wife is asking for you.

Supper is waiting on you. Come. Come. And so are we all.

Aye, very well. To supper, then!

- Wait. What's that? (Dog barking)

No, thanks.

(Footsteps)

Smike, where have you been? What happened to you?

Mr Noggs and I have been searching all over London.

- Mr Squeers... - Wait. Sit down.

- Mr Squeers... - Squeers?

- He... - In London?

- You saw him? - He caught me. He locked me up.

And you got away?

Couldn't find the way home, so I...so I came here.

You did quite right to come.

He must stay here the night. He is tired.

- I... - Now, drink.

I...

Don't speak now. Don't speak now. Your story can wait till tomorrow.

The important thing is that you're safe.

Kate and I have been half mad with worry about you.

Kate...

Kate...

He's done it, Mr Charles. His capital B's and D's are exactly like mine.

He dots all his small I's and crosses every T as he writes.

Well said, Tim.

There ain't such a young man in London. The City can't produce his equal.

- I challenge the City to do it. - I knew our young friend would succeed.

Tim Linkinwater, you are excited. Properly excited. Mr Nickleby...

Will you be good enough to give this letter to my brother?

- Of course. - I am obliged to you.

Splendid.

I am so...so ashamed.

My dear ma'am, my dear young lady, pray don't. Not another word.

I should not have come here. But only tell me what I must do.

Please, rise. I beseech and entreat you. I implore you.

I beg of you to rise. We...we are not alone.

No, no. You mustn't.

- I think, sir, that the young lady has fainted. - Good heavens!

Where is my brother Charles? Charles, my dear brother! Come here pray!

- My dear fellow, what on earth.) - Hush!

Not a word for your life, brother Charles. Ring for the housekeeper.

Tim Linkinwater, sir. Mr Nickleby, my dear sir, leave the room,

I beg and beseech of you.

- Oh, what a thing this is. - I think that she is better now, sir.

We are indebted to you. And now, if you please, leave us.

- Yes, by all means, by all means. - Drink this.

Oh, do. Make the slightest effort.

(Woman sighs) - The slightest effort.

Oh, pray do. Pray do. The slightest effort.

(Church bell rings)

- Has she quite recovered? - Who?

Who? The young lady.

What do you make, Mr Nickleby, of 427 times 3,238?

- But I asked you about the young lady. - To be sure. She's very well.

- She's very well? - Very well.

- Eight eights are... - Will she be well enough to go home?

- She's gone. - Gone?

- Yes, she went by the back door. - Back door...

NICHOLAS: Come on, come on.

You...you love this lady, don't you?

Yes, I am in love with her.

I'm head over heels, as the saying goes.

She's the most beautiful and delightful creature I've ever seen.

With such a gentle nature, too.

How is Mr Noggs going to find out where she lives?

Her servant came to the office last night.

I heard her tell Mr Charles she would come again tonight,

and as I was working, Mr Noggs said that he would wait outside and follow her.

When are we going to go to the gardens?

- Gardens? - To hear the band.

You said we'd go this evening, but you changed your mind.

We'll go some other night. Very soon, I promise.

(Footsteps)

Mr NQggS...

- Well? - Calm yourself, my dear young man.

Don't torment me, please.

- Her name is Bobster. - Bobster?

That's the name. I remember it by lobster.

Bobster? That must be the servant's name.

That's the name. Miss Cecilia Bobster.

Cecilia, eh? Cecilia.

- That's a pretty name. - A pretty name for a pretty lady.

- You saw her? - I spoke to her.

You what?

I told her you loved her to distraction and longed passionately to speak to her.

- You didn't? - Why not? It's the truth.

So it is. Heaven knows, I love her.

She blushed when I told her, and consented to hear you speak for yourself.

I'm to take you there this very minute.

- Unless your passion is cooling. - No, it isn't. Lead on, man. Lead on.

It's number 12.

(Cat meows)

- Good street. - Yes. Rather dull.

Ah, you'd better know this. Her father's a bit of a Turk.

Bit of a...Turk?

He doesn't take kindly to young gentlemen calling.

He thinks they're birds of prey come to rob the nest.

Makes him obstreperous.

But don't worry. He won't be there tonight.

As well for him.

I'd wager he beats that darling girl.

Well, here we are.

Go on, go on.

Ooh!

Miss Bobster, Mr Nicholas Nickleby Esquire.

I'm sorry. I...

(Loud whisper) She isn't the one.

(Man yells)

Bobster, by the Lord. It's her father, the Turk. Run for your life.

Yes, but I must apologise.

Hey! Come here!

Come here!

Aye. Then fschoolmaster sees front door's open.

"He's seen him," I says. "He's seen Smike. He knows the lad is out and gone."

But nay. He thinks it's me has left it open.

So he slams it shut with a fearful clatter,

leaving Smike on the outside as free as a rabbit in a wheat field.

Indeed, Mrs Browdie. Your husband is the best natured, kindest person I ever saw.

It is kind of you to say so, Miss Nickleby.

But I'm afraid we're keeping you all up very late.

- It's nearly eleven o'clock. - Late? This is quite early for us.

We used to keep such hours.

Twelve, one, two, three o'clock was nothing to us.

- Balls, dinners, card parties... (Knocking)

Who could that be at such an hour?

It must be some mistake. A caller come to the wrong house.

Unless the Cheerybles have sent to take you into partnership.

At this hour? It hardly seems probable.

Or the counting house has burned down,

or Mr Linkinwater has run away with the property, or Miss La Creevy is ill.

- How dare you! - Before that boy says a word, hear me.

Your presence in this house is an insult to my sister.

What brings me here is someone whom I think I know by his looks.

I'll tell you one thing. He's not come by hisself.

There's a shadow outside yon door and I know who owns it.

Show thyself, schoolmaster!

- Don't be shamefaced. - So you're here with them.

Now I know how that boy got away from me.

- It were you. You! - Aye, it were me.

- I stole him from under your ugly nose. - Mr Squeers.

Have you done enjoying yourself, sir?

Pretty nigh, for the present time.

Ma'am, I am here because I do not wish to be disgraced

by the acts of a vicious stripling whom I have been obliged to disown.

I am come to restore a child to his parent.

- What child? - Mr Snawley, come forward, sir.

My boy. My boy. How little did I think of this here joyful meeting when I saw him last!

- Be composed. You have got him now. - Got him? Oh, haven't I got him?

He's a wicked boy, but what couldn't I do to him in the anger of a father?

That is nature, sir, and what a blessed thing to be in a state of nature.

- Smike. - Don't let them take me!

- Don't let me go with them! - Father? What proof have you?

Proof enough, sir. You had a son by your first wife, Mr Snawley?

- I had, and there he stands. - You call that proof?

I call this proof, sir. Papers.

The certificate of Mr Snawley's first marriage and of the boy's birth.

Read them.

- What are we to do, Nicholas? - Is what he says true?

- I fear it is. - Well, I think there's trickery in it.

I would have come armed with the powers of the law,

but for my regard for your feelings.

You have already shown your regard for Kate's feelings.

Well, now, what is the order of the day?

Is Master Snawley to come along with us?

No, please don't let me go with them. Please!

This is a cruel thing. Do parents bring children into the world for this?

You come along with me and with your pa that's been a-grieving for you.

You'll not touch him. Get back!

- Stand aside! - Get back, I said!

- Right, come on, schoolmaster! - No!

Out!

Well done, John. Now have the kindness to follow your friend.

I want my son.

Your son, if he is your son, chooses for himself.

He chooses to remain here and so he shall.

Knock down that Nickleby with a candlestick

and bring my hat out, someone, unless he wants to steal it.

You're an unnatural, ungrateful and unlovable boy.

You won't let me love you when I want to. Won't you come home with me?

Come on, you. Out!

You've had your answer, sir. Now get out.

MRS WCKLEBY". Kate, my dear, please.

And you, sir, may follow your friends.

I never supposed you would give him up tonight.

Your pride and obstinacy were against it.

These will be brought down, lowered, crushed!

I shall use the law. The law will take this boy from you.

No!

And when that happens, we shall settle our accounts, you and l.

Yes.

The law will have him.

- Smike... - Nicholas...

Is it possible that Smike is the son of that dreadful man?

- What are we to do? - I gave that Squeers a seeing-to, eh?

- (Stammers) He found me. - This is your home, Smike.

You're safe here.

A mission, my dear sir, which is both confidential and delicate.

- Then I shall do my best, sir. - The object is a young lady.

- Indeed, sir? - She's the daughter of a lady who,

when I was very many years younger, I...

it seems a strange word for me to utter now...

I loved very dearly.

She is dead now.

And the young lady, sir?

Since her mother's death, she has striven to support her father,

a spendthrift, my dear sir, a wastrel reduced to the point of death

by poverty and illness.

The young lady is proud but desperation has forced her to ask for help.

What do you want me to do, sir?

The young lady has a talent for painting in water colours.

I desire that you will call upon her in the guise of a purchaser,

and that you will pretend to buy one of these little paintings.

That way, the father will not suspect the source of the money.

If he were to find out how easily it was come by,

he would squander it even more lightly than he is accustomed to.

And the young lady, sir, is she a party to this deceit?

She will know that the money comes from us,

but she believes that we intend to sell the paintings at a profit.

And it is necessary that she should think so.

- As I've said, the young lady is proud. - Of course.

Here is the address to which you will take the money.

The name is Bray. Miss Madeline Bray.

Sir.

(Door closes)

You're back quickly.

MAN: I waited in the street untill was sure you'd be alone.

Yes, it's me, Mr Nickleby.

You'd hardly have recognised me from my voice, I suppose.

There's little in me you can call to mind

as having been there eight year ago, eh?

Quite enough. More than enough.

Yesterday was my first day back in London.

- Was it? - I'm a starving man, sir.

Then you must work, sir.

Don't make play-acting speeches about bread but earn it.

How? Show me the means. Will you give them to me?

I did once. You need scarcely ask whether I will again.

Mr Nickleby, in the name of humanity.

Of what? I have nothing for you.

Well, perhaps, Mr Nickleby, I have something for you.

What might that be?

My silence concerning a certain matter.

I have a hold on you, Mr Nickleby.

You? A hold on me?

Mr Brooker, if that is still your name,

as you know, I'm a careful man.

Whatever you gleaned, heard or saw when you served me, the world knows already.

There is nothing you could tell it which would surprise it.

Whatever it is you know, you are welcome to keep it or publish it to the world.

I can't do that. It wouldn't serve me.

But I can tell you of something that you've lost that only I can restore.

If those of your own name are dear to you...

They are not, sir.

And I would not pan with a ha'penny to save you from rotting.

That's my answer to your trash. Not a farthing! Now get out.

- Mr Nickleby... - Get out!

Scape-gallows.

(Child crying)

Yes?

For Mr Edwin Cheeryble.

- Oh. MAN: Who is it, Madeline?

- Will you come in, sir? - Madeline, who is this person?

What does anybody want here? Who told a stranger we could be seen?

- What's his business? - Sir, I've come to pay Miss Bray

for a painting that was purchased some days ago.

- With many thanks. - Come to pay, have you?

That's a change. Make sure the money is right, Madeline.

- It's quite right, Papa, I'm sure. - Give it to me.

You're sure? How can you be sure of any such thing?

Five pounds? Well, is that right?

- Yes. - Then you must go out at once.

I want a newspaper and some grapes

and another bottle of that wine I had last week and...

I can't remember half the things I want. You'll have to go out again.

Madeline, my love, make haste.

- Do you wait for a receipt? - It's of no matter at all.

No matter? What do you mean, sir?

Do you think you bring your paltry money here as a favour or a gift?

Damn you, sir! Do you know that you're talking to a gentleman,

who at one time could have bought up fifty such men as you and all you have?

All I mean, sir, is as I shall have many dealings with this lady,

if she will allow me, I will not trouble her with such forms.

Then I mean, if you please, we'll have as many forms as we can.

So every petty tradesman is to begin to pity her now, is he? Very pretty.

Madeline, my dear, give him a receipt, and mind you always do so.

- When shall I call again? - When you're requested to call, not before.

(Coughs)

Thank you.

Good day, sir.

Madeline...

Sir, I do not know whether I do right in asking you this,

but pray do not mention to Mr Cheeryble what has passed here.

- I beg you as a favour to myself. - Then I shall say nothing.

- I am obliged to you. - Miss Bray...

Sir?

If there is any way in which I can...

I mean, although I'm Mr Cheeryble's messenger,

I would be most honoured to...

- Well, to... - Yes?

- It's of no consequence. FATHER: Madeline!

- What's the matter here? - Oh, demnition sweetness.

Mr Nickleby, by what chance you have come I don't know.

I will, however, say before you and everybody else here

that I never will supply that man's extravagances and viciousness again.

I have been a dupe and a fool to him long enough.

He shall spend what money he pleases, but it shall not be mine,

and therefore you had better pause before you trust him further.

The demd apothecary has not mixed the prussic acid strong enough.

Somebody, fetch me another bottle or two.

Furthermore... I wish for a separation in law.

Come, now. You know you're not in earnest.

- I am in earnest. - But reflect.

- A married woman has no property. - Not a solitary, individual dem.

I know that, and I have none.

The business is now in the name of my forewoman Miss Knag,

who is my particular friend.

And so I will have a separation.

Nickleby, you have been a witness to this demnition cruelty

on the pan of the demd enslaver and captivator that never was, but...

oh, demmit, I forgive her.

- Forgive? You? - Yes.

Nickleby, you will blame me, the world will blame me, the women will blame me.

Everybody will laugh and scoff and smile, and grin most demnebly, but...

I forgive her.

Ladies, return to your work.

Mr Nickleby...

I have nothing more to do with this man.

My star! My topaz!

My garnet!

Nickleby.

You may put away those fooleries now and live by your wits.

- I think your day is over. - Demmit, Nickleby. You're not serious.

I seldom joke. Good day.

Demnition, Nickleby. You can't desert me!

Where shall I turn? Nickleby!

Mama, it's Mr Linkinwater and another gentleman.

Mr Frank Cheeryble, the nephew of my employers.

Mr Frank and I were taking an evening stroll, ma'am.

Alas, he's not a very great walker and easily falls tired.

Since we were in your neighbourhood...

And since Mr Nickleby most kindly asked me to call and visit him...

- We took the liberty of knocking. - You are both most welcome, sir.

Although, alas, Nicholas is not at home.

Kate, my love, you must be both Nicholas and yourself.

- Miss Nickleby need be but herself. - We shall stay but ten minutes, ma'am.

I could not let you go so soon. Nicholas would be much vexed.

But what a pity that Kate does not have her best frock on.

- Mama! - Although I have never seen her look better.

Indeed, ma'am, I could not imagine such a possibility.

But you are not acquainted with our dearest friend, Miss La Creevy.

- Mr Cheeryble and Mr Linkinwater. - Miss? Surely not!

- An honour, ma'am. - Oh, I'm sure I'm obliged to you, sir.

Will you gentlemen not sit?

Ma'am, it seems to me we have something in common.

Indeed, sir? And what might that be?

- The state of singleness, ma'am. - Oh la lé, sir.

Do you mean, you cannot mean that you have never married?

Never, ma'am, and none the worse for it.

Mind, I will say, if I could get anybody to have me,

I might change my condition even yet.

(Clattering) - What was that?

- Ma'am? - The strangest noise.

(Clattering) - There it is again.

It seems to be coming from the chimney.

- It must be a thief! What are we to do? - Have no fear, ma'am.

A strange kind of thief that enters by the chimney.

- Must be some drunken fellow. (Man shouting)

That voice!

- Those legs! It is he! - Who, ma'am?

Kate, I ask you to bear witness that I have given him no encouragement.

Come out, fellow. Do you hear me? Come out and surrender yourself.

What, a fricassee of boot-tops and goldfish sauce?

- Do you know him, ma'am? - Yes, I know who it is.

Pray don't be rough with him.

I'd rather have been a pig-faced lady than be exposed to such a life as this!

But don't hurt a hair of his head, I beg you.

Ah, I see her now. My love, my life, my bride!

My peerless beauty! She is come at last!

At last! And all is gas and gaiters!

All the wealth I have is hers if she will but take me for her slave.

Where are beauty, grace and blandishments like those?

In the Empress of Madagascar? No. In the Queen of Diamonds? No.

In Mrs Rowland, who every morning bathes in Kalydorfor nothing? No.

Melt all these down into one, with the three Graces, the nine Muses,

and fourteen biscuit-bakers' daughters from Oxford Street,

and make a woman half as lovely.

Oh! I defy you.

I'm sure it is a great relief, under such trying circumstances as these,

to have anybody else mistaken for me.

It is a circumstance which has never occurred before,

although I have several times been mistaken for my daughter Kate.

- However... - Avaunt! Cat!

- Sir! I beg you! - Puss! Kit! Grimalkin!

Tabby! Brindle! Whoosh!

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Mrs Nickleby...

- Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! - Sir!

Miss La Creevy, he seems to admire you greatly.

If you were to leave, maybe he would follow.

- I? Leave? - No harm will befall you, ma'am.

If you could lure him to the front door...

Whoosh! Whoosh!

- There. - Kate, my love.

I shall never forgive myself.

That gentleman is out of his senses and I am the unhappy cause.

- You, Mama? - I rejected his proposal.

The disappointment was too much for him.

He is mad - quite, quite mad.

(Church bell rings)

There goes the three quarters. Three quarters past my dinner time.

My dinner's at two.

(Growls)

I don't believe he ever had an appetite,

except for pounds, shillings and pence.

With them he's as hungry as a wolf.

I had my breakfast at eight o'clock.

What a breakfast!

Why do you always go out at my dinner time?

Don't you know it's nothing but an aggravation?

NICKLEBY: Come in, Gride.

Noggs?

Where is he?

The dog's gone to his dinner, though I told him not to.

Well, now, Gride, what's in the wind?

Tell me, Mr Nickleby, what would you say to me

if I were to tell you I was going to be married?

I should tell you that for some purpose of your own you told a lie,

and that it wasn't for the first time and wouldn't be the last.

Then I tell you seriously that I am.

- To some old hag? - Wrong. Wrong, Mr Nickleby.

For once at fault. To a young and beautiful girl.

Bright eyes, long eyelashes, ripe and ruddy lips

that to look at is to long to kiss.

This is something more than common drivelling.

- The girl's name? - Bray, sir. Madeline Bray.

- Bray? - You can't have forgotten Walter Bray.

- Him? - We did business with him together.

- Right. - He owes you money.

I know him. Nine hundred and seventy-five pound, four shillings and three pence.

Now you speak. So it's his daughter, is it?

It is. Now, if I offer myself as his son-in-law

in order to buy off all his debts...

- Including what he owes me? - Every penny.

Do you think he would or could resist me?

I confess I still do not see the advantages of this match.

Supposing I had knowledge of some property,

a little property, very little,

to which this pretty chick is entitled

and which no-one does or can know of at this time

but which her husband could sweep into his pouch, if he knew as much as I do.

Now I'm beginning to see. What is my pan in this affair?

If you are to have your money, I must first marry this young woman.

- Well? - So the giant...must help the pigmy.

Now, listen, if you go to Walter Bray...

Think, sir, consider.

Mr Gride has money, Miss Madeline has beauty and worth.

Tit for tat, quits, a match of heaven's own making. So, think.

It is not for me to accept or reject. It is for my daughter. You know that.

True, but you have the power to advise, to, shall we say, hint a wish?

Hint, sir'? I am her father, am I not'?

Why should I hint and beat about the bush?

Do you think because I can hardly leave this chair without assistance

that I am some broken-spirited creature

without the courage to do what I may think best for my own child?

- Hint indeed! - Pardon me.

I was only about to say that a hint from you is equivalent to a command.

That's what I say. Why, of course.

You are a man with many more years of life in front of you.

The town rang with your expensive pleasures once. It could do so again.

Think fashion, freedom, gaiety.

What is the alternative?

A gravestone in the nearest churchyard, perhaps twenty, perhaps two years hence?

You know best what to do, my friend,

and your daughter will live to thank you.

But you must judge for her. You must judge.

Yes. Yes, I alone must judge.

Aagh!

What ails you?

- A spasm. MADELINE: I'm coming, Papa!

My daughter.

Papa, what has happened?

A pain. It has gone now.

- Can I do nothing for you? - Nothing. You do too much.

You overtax your strengths, my dear.

This wretched life is more than you can bear.

You are not well, sir.

Mr Gride and I will take our leave.

You will communicate with us again?

Yes, in a week. Give me a week.

In a week. So be it.

Mr Gride, come, sir.

- Good day, ma'am. - We will shake hands, Gride.

You mean well, no doubt.

Madeline, my love, your hand here.

If the lady will condescent.

Just the tips of her fingers.

Come, Gride.

Smike?

Such a sad face.

Are you unhappy for some reason?

If you are, you must tell me.

You're not unwell?

There.

I picked it in the garden.

Thank you.

RALPH: Then it is settled? WALTER BRAY: Yes.

And I may tell Mr Gride that the young lady is willing?

She is willing.

Then let us name a day.

♪ Ta-ran-ta-roo, throw the old shoe and may the wedding be lucky

♪ Young, lovely and fair, happiness there

♪ The wedding is sure to be lucky!

Ooh, I look well in bottle green, yeah!

Peg Sliderskew! Yes, I'll wear the bottle green.

(Door slams)

Was that you a-calling or was it only the clock striking?

Peg, I'll be married in this suit.

- Eh? - I'll be married in this suit.

It's a deal too good to be married in, master.

- Haven't you got anything worse'? - Nothing that'll do.

Well, if she's as handsome as you say she is,

she'll not look much at you, master, take your oath on that.

It'll make no difference to her whether you're dressed in pepper and salt,

bottle green, sky blue or tartan plaid.

You're in a funny humour, ain't you, Peg?

- I give you my notice, master. - Eh?

Nobody shall be put over Peg Sliderskew's head after all these years.

You're not bringing her into this house to domineer over me.

- She won't do that, Peg. - That's right.

And you'll come to ruin.

Take care you don't let her good looks come expensive.

Your old master's not going to be taken in by pretty faces, Peg. No...

(Knocking)

See who that is.

- What's your business'? - A letter from Mr Ralph Nickleby.

Bearer waits.

- Won't you take a...chair? - Yes.

No, thank you.

Answer, bearer...waits.

Answer... Yes...

To be sure. I'll...write a line.

The...the...news is...

Bad?

No...Mr Noggs.

Good.

It's good! I'll get pen and ink!

(Gride chuckles)

(Gride sings happily)

What's it say?

Ah! Got my message. Good. Waiter.

I can't stay very long. Smike isn't very well.

Then I'll be brief. Gin, please.

Your uncle expects me at the office directly.

I think I'm going to find out something.

- What? - I don't know what it may be.

But I've seen and heard enough to think that he may have overstepped himself.

- What are you talking about? - Who else but your uncle?

Wherever I go, I meet a man named Brooker.

It may be that he follows me.

He knows something about your uncle, more than he means to tell at once.

So far he has only dropped such hints as puzzle me,

but I have a crotchet in my mind that one day he means to tell me more.

What has this to do with me, sir?

It should be enough that it has to do with your uncle.

Then there is another dark business which may be worthy of us.

A week ago I overheard your uncle conspiring with a man named Gride.

They mean to defraud a young lady of property

which she does not yet know is hers.

There is to be a marriage, and when Miss Bray becomes the wife of Arthur Gride...

- What? What name did you say? - Arthur Gride.

- No, the other. - The young lady?

- Her name is Bray, Madeline Bray. - Wes Madame Bray .

- Then it's the same. - You know her?

- A marriage, did you say? - Aye, if it can be called by that name.

Within one day she is to be given to a m...m...m...

Not a man. A devil, born and bred and grey in the devil's ways,

and it will be your uncle's doing.

But she cannot. Mr Noggs, I must go at once.

Smike, quickly, please. I shall be in your debt more than ever.

Goodbye, Mr Noggs.

Mr Brooker, we meet again.

Mr Noggs, the matter we spoke of...

Miss Bray, if I might have a few words with you, in private.

- In private, sir? - My business is with the young lady.

With a gentleman's daughter, sir.

And let me tell you that Miss Madeline Bray is no longer at your beck and call,

as you suppose her to be,

and we do not live on your money, as you flatter yourself we do.

From this day forth, sir, you may go to the devil.

If you send me to that devil Gride, sir,

I shall at least have the company of your daughter.

- You dare to... - Please, sir, remember that he is ill.

Ill, ill. I am bearded and bullied by a shop-boy,

and she beseeches him to pity me and remind me that I am ill!

- I beg you, sir, leave us. - I must speak to you.

- (Whispers) Can I wait outside? - Yes. Yes, only go.

Be calm, Papa.

It is over.

The gentleman has left.

There.

There.

She begs him to remember that I am ill.

He insults me, her father,

and she calls him a gentleman.

(Door opens)

- You spoke just now about Mr Gride. - Yes.

I know that you intend to marry him the day after tomorrow.

- This is no business of yours. - Miss Bray!

The Cheeryble brothers are your friends.

Unfortunately they are both abroad, so I must speak for them and myself.

I beg you, postpone this marriage by one week.

- To what purpose? - It will give me time! Time to...

Shh!

Time to discover why marrying you is so much to Arthur Gride's advantage.

- I ask for just one week. - A week which might bring my father's death.

- Do you know how ill he is? - I have a duty.

So have I, Mr Nickleby.

It is true that I do not love this gentleman,

but by accepting him I can release my father, who is dying in this place,

prolong his life, perhaps, restore him to comfort.

I have given my word. I will not break it.

- But, Miss Bray... - I am grateful to you.

For your friendship.

Friendship, Miss Bray?

Good day.

Ha! Good. It is settled.

And if Miss Bray keeps her word, then it is done.

- I sent you on another errand. - Yes.

- Well? - It is as you were told.

Sir Mulberry Hawk has come back from France.

You've spoken to him? Is he recovered?

I didn't speak to him. He wasn't at home.

And as to whether he has recovered, I should say there is no doubt,

considering he has gone to the races at Hampton.

It is enough that he's in England.

I know him. He won't wait long to settle his accounts

with that boy who brought him so near death.

Yes. Hawk will settle that score.

For himself and for me.

Rooge-a-nore from Paris, gentleman.

Make your game and back your own opinions, any time while the ball rolls.

Black again.

There we are!

Well, I'm damned! Hawk!

- So you've come back, eh? - As you see.

Afternoon, Lord Frederick.

At first we heard that you were dead, then that you'd gone to France.

- To recover, I guess, eh? - Which I've done.

I must say, it's an uncommon bold and game thing to show yourself so soon.

I've read in the papers about the thrashing that fellow gave you.

Indeed. Then you must look in the papers again tomorrow.

Must I? What am I to look for?

CROUPIER: Black again! (People gasp and laugh)

- Perhaps a case of murder. - Hawk!

Good day.

CROUPIER: One, two, three, four for you. Sorry about that, sir.

Come along, gentlemen...

Hawk, look here. I must have a word with you.

- You are joking, surely? - Joking?

Think I'd be joking about this or the weeks I lay in bed with a broken limb?

Or about the mockery I endured? No, my lord, Mr Nickleby has much to pay for.

But...but it was your fault.

- What do you say? - You insulted his sister.

You refused to show him your card.

What choice had he but to act there and then?

I did wrong not to interfere, but I shall now.

- Be careful what you say. - The matter is closed.

- You will not harm him. - Will you prevent it, my lord?

If I can.

Very proper saving clause, that - if you can.

You look to your business and leave me to mine.

You were in the wrong. Your intentions now do you no credit.

I warn you, I will not permit a cowardly attack upon this young fellow.

Do you call me a coward, sir?

- You speak of doing murder. - Do you call me a coward?

Yes.

And you, sir, a weak, soft, witless fool!

How dare you!

Let me go! He struck me! Have I got a friend here?

- Westwood, do you not hear me? - I hear. Come away for now.

I will not, by God. A dozen men here saw the blow.

- Tomorrow will be ample time. - Tomorrow will not be ample time!

At once. Here!

- Now. - I struck him and he knows why.

I say with him let this quarrel be adjusted now.

- The paces? - Six. Agreed?

Six paces.

Six paces.

You must stand back to back.

Six paces, turn and fire.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

(Birds squawk)

- He's dead. - Hm.

His blood on his own head.

Brought this upon himself. Forced it on me.

Captain Adams, I call you to witness that this was fairly done.

Hawk, you must leave the country immediately.

- I have still some other business here. - Not any longer.

We must leave this place and cross to France with all speed.

This has been a bad business, and may be worse if we delay.

Adams, consult your own safety, the living before the dead.

Here, what do you mean bursting in here like that?

- Who are you? - Never mind who I am.

You're getting married tomorrow morning.

How do you know that? You from Nickleby?

He hasn't betrayed you. You made a bargain with him, didn't you?

You're paying him a share for selling Madeline Bray to you.

I know Miss Bray, and I know she hates and despises you.

- Her blood runs cold at your name. - What do you want?

I've come here to ask you to give her up.

She has wealthy friends who would coin their hearts to save her from this marriage.

Say what your price is. Do you hear me?

- I hear you. Help! Help! - What are you doing, man?

I'll rouse the neighbourhood and swear you came to rob me if you don't quit my house.

Ah! Yeah, you're the disappointed lover, are you?

Well, you shan't have her, nor she you!

- Now leave my house this minute! - Wretch! If you were a younger man...

if I were a younger man, it wouldn't be so bad, eh?

But me so old and ugly, to be jilted by pretty Madeline for me, eh?

I'm not her lover. She doesn't even know my name.

Yeah, but I'll ask it for all that.

Yeah, I'll beg it of her with kisses.

And she'll give it to me, and we'll laugh together, and hug together,

when we think of the poor youth that couldn't have her

because she was bespoke...to me.

Oh! You...!

Help! Help! Help! Help!

(Gride cackles)

I cannot think why Nicholas is so late this evening, Mr Cheeryble.

I know he'll be distressed to learn you've wasted a journey.

Not quite wasted, Miss Nickleby.

The compensations have been more than ample.

But perhaps you would give him some news he may welcome.

Gladly.

The man Snawley who came here pretending to be Smike's father...

Pretending? You mean he isn't...?

When he came to this house with the man Squeers and your uncle,

I'm told he had a certain document.

The certificate of Smike's birth.

- I don't think so. - Oh'?

You see, Snawley had a child, a son by his first marriage, but the boy died.

If we can prove the certificate of birth pertains to that child and not to Smike,

Snawley has laid himself open to a charge of attempted abduction.

Your uncle and Squeers will be implicated.

Can it be proved?

Well, if not, it shall not be for the want of effort.

Mrs Nickleby, I am again obliged to you for your kindness.

- I know you will forgive my intrusion. - I'm sure you're always most welcome here.

Good night, Miss Nickleby. I look forward to our next meeting.

Good night, Mr Cheeryble.

I must say, Kate, that is the most attentive young man that ever I saw.

- Attentive, Mama? - It wasn't fancy, my dear, I am certain of that.

I have never seen such attention in all my life, never.

- You cannot be serious. - But I am most certainly.

His politeness and attention to me is one of the most becoming,

gratifying and pleasant things I've seen for a long time.

Oh, his attention to you, Mama. Yes, of course.

Kate, what an extraordinary girl you are.

Is it likely I should be talking of his attention to anybody else?

No, Mama.

Nicholas. Mr Frank Cheeryble has been here. Did you not see him?

He has good news. He told us...

- What has happened? ls something wrong? - Kate, I need your help.

Tomorrow will you come with me to a certain house?

Yes, if you wish it. But why?

There is a young lady I know who is being forced into a cruel marriage.

I must try and stop it. I must.