The journey to London took about five hours. I arrived in the middle of the day, and I was shocked by what I saw. I had expected London to be a beautiful place, but instead, it seemed ugly, narrow, and dirty. It was crowded with people and horses, and the air was thick with smoke.
Mr. Jaggers’s office was in a place called Little Britain. I took a coach there, and even the coachman seemed afraid of my guardian. When I asked for the price, he said, “It’s one shilling—unless you want to pay more. I don’t want any trouble. I know Mr. Jaggers!” He shook his head as if he knew a dark secret about the man.
I went into the office, but Mr. Jaggers was not there. His clerk told me he was in court and asked me to wait in his private room. It was a dismal, frightening place. There was a skylight in the ceiling, but it didn't let in much light. The room was filled with strange objects: an old pistol, a sword, and two strange plaster heads on a shelf. These heads looked swollen and unpleasant, and they made me feel very uncomfortable. Mr. Jaggers’s chair was made of black leather and looked like a coffin. I sat there for a while, but the atmosphere was so depressing that I decided to go for a walk.
I walked to a nearby area called Smithfield. It was a market, and it was covered in filth and blood from the animals. It was a shameful, disgusting place. Not far away, I saw the great black dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral and a grim stone building. A man told me it was Newgate Prison.
While I was looking at the prison, a dirty man approached me. He offered to show me where they hanged people and where they whipped prisoners. He told me that four people would be executed there in two days. This gave me a sickening feeling about London. I paid the man a shilling just to get away from him.
I returned to the office and noticed a group of people waiting in the street. They all looked desperate and worried, and they were all waiting for Mr. Jaggers. I heard them whispering his name. They believed that Jaggers was the only lawyer who could save their friends or family from the law. One man was even crying, saying, "Give me Jaggers! No one else can help!"
Finally, I saw Mr. Jaggers coming across the road. The crowd rushed toward him, but he was very cold and strict with them.
“I have nothing to say to you!” he shouted at two men. “Have you paid my clerk, Wemmick?” When they said yes, he told them to leave. “If you say one more word, I will give up your case!”
He treated everyone the same way. He was powerful and intimidating, and he didn't want to hear their stories. He only cared about the law and the money they owed him.
Inside the office, a man named Mike was waiting. He had brought a witness for a trial. Mr. Jaggers was angry because the witness was a drunk man who had been dressed up to look like a respectable baker.
“Take him away!” Jaggers shouted in disgust. “How dare you bring such a man here!”
Finally, Mr. Jaggers took me into his room. While he ate a quick lunch, he told me the plans for my new life. I was to stay at Barnard’s Inn with a young man named Mr. Pocket. I would stay there until Monday, and then we would visit his father in the country.
Jaggers gave me a large amount of money for my expenses and gave me the addresses of several shops where I could buy clothes and other things.
“You will have plenty of money, Mr. Pip,” he said. “But I will check your bills. I expect you will get into trouble somehow, but that is not my fault.”
I shook hands with my guardian, and he told his clerk, Wemmick, to walk with me to Barnard’s Inn. As we left the office, the crowd of desperate people was still there, but Wemmick pushed through them easily. We walked side by side toward my new home.