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Updated: May 16, 2025
The welcome light soon shines upon the wall, as Krook comes slowly up with his green-eyed cat following at his heels. "Does the man generally sleep like this?" inquired the lawyer in a low voice. "Hi! I don't know," says Krook, shaking his head and lifting his eyebrows. "I know next to nothing of his habits except that he keeps himself very close." Thus whispering, they both go in together.
He comes back pretty steadily, adjusting his fur cap on his head and looking keenly at them. "Your servant, gentlemen; I've been dozing. Hi! I am hard to wake, odd times." "Rather so, indeed, sir," responds Mr. Guppy. "What? You've been a-trying to do it, have you?" says the suspicious Krook. "Only a little," Mr. Guppy explains.
"I can answer for Miss Flite that they have," said I, "for she promised to tell us what they were. Ada remembers?" Ada remembered very well. "Did I?" said Miss Flite. "Who's that at my door? What are you listening at my door for, Krook?" The old man of the house, pushing it open before him, appeared there with his fur cap in his hand and his cat at his heels.
Chadband, expressing a considerable amount of oil from the pores of his forehead and the palms of his hands, says aloud, "Yes. You first!" and retires to his former place. "I was the client and friend of Mr. Tulkinghorn," pipes Grandfather Smallweed then; "I did business with him. I was useful to him, and he was useful to me. Krook, dead and gone, was my brother-in-law.
"I recollect once thinking there was something in his manner, uncouth as it was, that denoted a fall in life. Was that so?" he continues, looking round. Krook replies, "You might as well ask me to describe the ladies whose heads of hair I have got in sacks downstairs. Than that he was my lodger for a year and a half and lived or didn't live by law-writing, I know no more of him."
He goes a short way, turns back, comes again to the shop of Mr. Krook, and enters it straight. It is dim enough, with a blot-headed candle or so in the windows, and an old man and a cat sitting in the back part by a fire. The old man rises and comes forward, with another blot-headed candle in his hand. "Pray is your lodger within?" "Male or female, sir?" says Mr. Krook. "Male.
Krook standing at his shop-door, in his spectacles, looking after us, with his cat upon his shoulder, and her tail sticking up on one side of his hairy cap like a tall feather. "Quite an adventure for a morning in London!" said Richard with a sigh. "Ah, cousin, cousin, it's a weary word this Chancery!" "It is to me, and has been ever since I can remember," returned Ada.
Was anybody present related to him?" glancing round upon the three bystanders. "I was his landlord," grimly answers Krook, taking the candle from the surgeon's outstretched hand. "He told me once I was the nearest relation he had." "He has died," says the surgeon, "of an over-dose of opium, there is no doubt. The room is strongly flavoured with it.
There is only one other point on which I offer a word of remark. The possibility of what is called spontaneous combustion has been denied since the death of Mr. Krook; and my good friend Mr. I have no need to observe that I do not wilfully or negligently mislead my readers and that before I wrote that description I took pains to investigate the subject.
Here on the head of an empty barrel stood on end were an ink-bottle, some old stumps of pens, and some dirty playbills; and against the wall were pasted several large printed alphabets in several plain hands. "What are you doing here?" asked my guardian. "Trying to learn myself to read and write," said Krook. "And how do you get on?" "Slow. Bad," returned the old man impatiently.
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