Ralph Nickleby: Noggs, take down this letter. "To Mr. Squeers, the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. I have decided to finance any legal action you may care to take against my nephew."
Newman Noggs: Ho, ho, ho! He isn't there.
Ralph Nickleby: Who isn't?
Newman Noggs: Mr. Squeers. He's at Bow Street Police Station!
Ralph Nickleby: You're lying.
Newman Noggs: Ohhh no, I'm not. And Mr Squeers hasn't been lying either. Mr Squeers has confessed to conspiracy with regard to a birth certificate and certain letters purporting to prove that Mr Snawley was the father!
Ralph Nickleby: I don't know what you're talking about.
Newman Noggs: Don't you? Mr Squeers says otherwise. So does Mr Snawley. So do the police.
Ralph Nickleby: Hold your tongue, you treacherous, sneaking...!
Newman Noggs: I've held my tongue for 15 years! Stood by helpless while you've ruined many another as once you ruined me.
Ralph Nickleby: You ruined yourself. You'd sell your soul, if you had one, for a little gin.
Newman Noggs: But I wouldn't sell my own flesh and blood. And it's not only little Kate I'm thinking of. I've seen the boy, Smike, the living image of his mother, of your wife!
Ralph Nickleby: My wife?
Newman Noggs: Didn't know I knew that, did you, that you had a son? Your wife died, but the child lived. And you had to keep his birth a secret, or the money would have gone to him. You put him out with a poor family, didn't you, to bring him up as their own? You paid them well for it, haven't you, ever since? Well, they didn't keep the boy!
Ralph Nickleby: It isn't true.
Newman Noggs: They put him to school in Yorkshire. They put him in Dotheboys Hall!
Ralph Nickleby: They cheated me!
Newman Noggs: Yes. They cheated you. Just as you've cheated hundreds of others!
Ralph Nickleby: In the gutter for this! And I'll deal with you too!
Newman Noggs: Will you? Will you? I've waited all these years for a chance to settle our account. And now, at last, it's come. The police have been here, and I've told them everything. There'll be another charge against you now: depriving your own son of his birthright, robbing him of a fortune! They'll transport you for that, you know! Hahahahahaha! They'll confiscate every penny you've got! Hahahahahaha! You can't escape now! It doesn't matter where you go! Off to see a lawyer, is that it? See if he can help you! Or are you going to bring the boy home? Own him as your own son, give him back the money? No use! No good! Nothing can help you now, money or lawyers! It doesn't matter where you go! YOU'RE TOO LATE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! TOO LATE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
