used a threat against me last night,
sir, a dreadful threat, sir.« Here Mr. Winkle turned very pale indeed, and
stopped short.
    »I did,« said Dowler, with a countenance almost as white as Mr. Winkle's.
»Circumstances were suspicious. They have been explained. I respect your
bravery. Your feeling is upright. Conscious innocence. There's my hand. Grasp
it.«
    »Really, sir,« said Mr. Winkle, hesitating whether to give his hand or not,
and almost fearing that it was demanded in order that he might be taken at an
advantage, »really, sir, I -«
    »I know what you mean,« interposed Dowler. »You feel aggrieved. Very
natural. So should I. I was wrong. I beg your pardon. Be friendly. Forgive me.«
With this, Dowler fairly forced his hand upon Mr. Winkle, and shaking it with
the utmost vehemence, declared he was a fellow of extreme spirit, and he had a
higher opinion of him than ever.
    »Now,« said Dowler, »sit down. Relate it all. How did you find me? When did
you follow? Be frank. Tell me.«
    »It's quite accidental,« replied Mr. Winkle, greatly perplexed by the
curious and unexpected nature of the interview, »Quite.«
    »Glad of it,« said Dowler. »I woke this morning. I had forgotten my threat.
I laughed at the accident. I felt friendly. I said so.«
    »To whom?« inquired Mr. Winkle.
    »To Mrs. Dowler. You made a vow, said she. I did, said I. It was a rash one,
said she. It was, said I. I'll apologise. Where is he?«
    »Who?« inquired Mr. Winkle.
    »You,« replied Dowler. »I went down stairs. You were not to be found.
Pickwick looked gloomy. Shook his head. Hoped no violence would be committed. I
saw it all. You felt yourself insulted. You had gone, for a friend perhaps.
Possibly for pistols. High spirit, said I. I admire him.«
    Mr. Winkle coughed, and beginning to see how the land lay, assumed a look of
importance.
    »I left a note for you,« resumed Dowler. »I said I was sorry. So I was.
Pressing business called me here. You were not satisfied. You followed. You
required