It's in the
papers.'
'You are in a nice state of confugion, Mr Sweedlepipes, you are!' said
Mrs Gamp, shaking her head; 'and my opinion is, as half-a-dudgeon fresh
young lively leeches on your temples, wouldn't be too much to clear your
mind, which so I tell you. Wot were they a-talkin' on, and wot was in
the papers?'
'All about it!' cried the barber. 'What else do you suppose? Him and his
master were upset on a journey, and he was carried to Salisbury, and
was breathing his last when the account came away. He never spoke
afterwards. Not a single word. That's the worst of it to me; but that
ain't all. His master can't be found. The other manager of their office
in the city, Crimple, David Crimple, has gone off with the money, and is
advertised for, with a reward, upon the walls. Mr Montague, poor young
Bailey's master (what a boy he was!) is advertised for, too. Some say
he's slipped off, to join his friend abroad; some say he mayn't have got
away yet; and they're looking for him high and low. Their office is a
smash; a swindle altogether. But what's a Life Assurance office to a
Life! And what a Life Young Bailey's was!'
'He was born into a wale,' said Mrs Gamp, with philosophical coolness.
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