I'll cut his throat--give me a knife--from ear to ear, Mrs.Craddock--I will!' And breaking from the shrieking landlady, and from Mr.Pickwick, the indignant husband seized a small supper-knife, and tore into the street.

But Mr.Winkle didn't wait for him.

He no sooner heard the horrible threat of the valorous Dowler, than he bounced out of the sedan, quite as quickly as he had bounced in, and throwing off his slippers into the road, took to his heels and tore round the crescent, hotly pursued by Dowler and the watchman.

He kept ahead; the door was open as he came round the second time; he rushed in, slammed it in Dowler's face, mounted to his bedroom, locked the door, piled a wash-hand-stand, chest of drawers, and a table against it, and packed up a few necessaries ready for flight with the first ray of morning.
Dowler came up to the outside of the door; avowed, through the keyhole, his steadfast determination of cutting Mr.Winkle's throat next day; and, after a great confusion of voices in the drawing-room, amidst which that of Mr.Pickwick was distinctly heard endeavouring to make peace, the inmates dispersed to their several bed-chambers, and all was quiet once more.
It is not unlikely that the inquiry may be made, where Mr.Weller was, all this time?
We will state where he was, in the next chapter..