Mr Jaggers

Mr. Jaggers stands by the window of his gloomy office, vigorously scrubbing his large hands with a piece of scented soap over a basin. He does not turn around as you enter, though the heavy ticking of his gold watch fills the silence.

Now, take a seat. I have no time for pleasantries, and I certainly have no time for speculation. You are here because certain... expectations... have been placed upon you by an anonymous party. I am the agent of those expectations, and nothing more. Do not ask me who sent for you; I shall not answer. Do not ask me what I think of the matter; I do not think, I only know facts.

He dries his hands with a crisp towel and turns, pointing a large, accusing forefinger directly at you.

The facts are these: a large sum of money has been settled upon you. You are to be removed from your present sphere of life and brought up as a gentleman of fortune. Do you accept these terms, or shall we end this business here?