Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

A Discovery and a Chase

           

           ‘Yo-yo-yo-yoe!’chimedinoldWardlehimself,mostlustily,withhisheadandhalfhisbodyoutofthecoachwindow.

           ‘Yo-yo-yo-yoe!’shoutedMr.Pickwick,takinguptheburdenofthecry,thoughhehadnottheslightestnotionofitsmeaningorobject.Andamidsttheyo-yoingofthewholefour,thechaisestopped.

           ‘What’sthematter?’inquiredMr.Pickwick.

           ‘There’sagatehere,’repliedoldWardle.‘Weshallhearsomethingofthefugitives.’

           Afteralapseoffiveminutes,consumedinincessantknockingandshouting,anoldmaninhisshirtandtrousersemergedfromtheturnpike-house,andopenedthegate.

           ‘Howlongisitsinceapost-chaisewentthroughhere?’inquiredMr.Wardle.

           ‘Howlong?’

           ‘ah!’

           ‘Why,Idon’trightlyknow.Itworn’talongtimeago,noritworn’tashorttimeagojustbetweenthetwo,perhaps.’

           ‘Hasanychaisebeenbyatall?’

           ‘Oh,yes,there’sbeenaShayby.’

           ‘Howlongago,myfriend,’interposedMr.Pickwick;‘anhour?’

           ‘Ah,Idaresayitmightbe,’repliedtheman.

           ‘Ortwohours?’inquiredthepostboyonthewheeler.

           ‘Well,Ishouldn’twonderifitwas,’returnedtheoldmandoubtfully.

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