When we went down stairs again, Wemmick led me into my guardian's room, and said, "This you've seen already." "Pray," said I, as the two odious casts with the twitchy leer upon them caught my sight again, "whose likenesses are those ?" "These ?" said Wemmick, getting upon a chair, and blowing the dust off the horrible heads before bringing them down.

"These are two celebrated ones.

Famous clients of ours that got us a world of credit.

This chap (why you must have come down in the night and been peeping into the inkstand, to get this blot upon your eyebrow, you old rascal!) murdered his master, and, considering that he wasn't brought up to evidence, didn't plan it badly." "Is it like him ?" I asked, recoiling from the brute, as Wemmick spat upon his eyebrow and gave it a rub with his sleeve.
"Like him?
It's himself, you know.

The cast was made in Newgate, directly after he was taken down.