Charles Dickens: Oliver Twist. Volume 3 of 3

“He says true enough there, God knows!” said Nancy, coming hastily forward. “Let him be, let him be.”

Nancy’s appearance gave a new turn to the conversation, for the boys, receiving a sly wink from the wary old Jew, began to ply her with liquor, of which, however, she partook very sparingly; while Fagin, assuming an unusual flow of spirits, gradually brought Mr. Sikes into a better temper, by affecting to regard his threats as a little pleasant banter, and, moreover, laughing very heartily at one or two rough jokes, which, after repeated applications to the spirit-bottle, he condescended to make.

“It’s all very well,” said Mr. Sikes; “but I must have some blunt from you to-night.”

“I haven’t a piece of coin about me,” replied the Jew.

“Then you’ve got lots at home,” retorted Sikes, “and I must have some from there.”

“Lots!” cried the Jew, holding up his hands. “I haven’t so much as would – ”

“I don’t know how much you’ve got, and I dare say you hardly know yourself, as it would take a pretty long time to count it,” said Sikes; “but I must have some to-night, and that’s flat.”

“Well, well,” said the Jew, with a sigh, “I’ll send the Artful round presently.”

“You won’t do nothing of the kind,” rejoined Mr. Sikes. “The Artful’s a deal too artful, and would forget to come, or lose his way, or get dodged by traps and so be perwented, or any thing for an excuse, if you put him up to it. Nancy shall go to the ken and fetch it, to make all sure, and I’ll lie down and have a snooze while she’s gone.”

After a great deal of haggling and squabbling, the Jew beat down the amount of the required advance from five pounds to three pounds four and sixpence, protesting with many solemn asseverations that that would only leave him eighteenpence to keep house with; Mr. Sikes sullenly remarking that if he couldn’t get any more he must be content with that, Nancy prepared to accompany him home; while the Dodger and Master Bates put the eatables in the cupboard. The Jew then, taking leave of his affectionate friend, returned homewards, attended by Nancy and the boys, Mr. Sikes meanwhile flinging himself on the bed, and composing himself to sleep away the time until the young lady’s return.

In due time they arrived at the Jew’s abode, where they found Toby Crackit and Mr. Chitling intent upon their fifteenth game at cribbage, which it is scarcely necessary to say the latter gentleman lost, and with it his fifteenth and last sixpence, much to the amusement of his young friends. Mr. Crackit, apparently somewhat ashamed at being found relaxing himself with a gentleman so much his inferior in station and mental endowments, yawned, and, inquiring after Sikes, took up his hat to go.

“Has nobody been, Toby?” asked the Jew.

“Not a living leg,” answered Mr. Crackit, pulling up his collar: “it’s been as dull as swipes. You ought to stand something handsome, Fagin, to recompense me for keeping house so long. Damme, I’m as flat as a jury-man, and should have gone to sleep as fast as Newgate, if I hadn’t had the good natur’ to amuse this youngster. Horrid dull, I’m blessed if I an’t.”

With these and other ejaculations of the same kind, Mr. Toby Crackit swept up his winnings, and crammed them into his waistcoat pocket with a haughty air, as though such small pieces of silver were wholly beneath the consideration of a man of his figure, and swaggered out of the room with so much elegance and gentility, that Mr. Chitling, bestowing numerous admiring glances on his legs and boots till they were out of sight, assured the company that he considered his acquaintance cheap at fifteen sixpences an interview, and that he didn’t value his losses the snap of a little finger.

“Wot a rum chap you are, Tom!” said Master Bates, highly amused by this declaration.

“Not a bit of it,” replied Mr. Chitling: “am I, Fagin?”

“A very clever fellow, my dear,” said the Jew, patting him on the shoulder, and winking to his other pupils.

“And Mr. Crackit is a heavy swell, an’t he, Fagin?” asked Tom.

“No doubt at all of that, my dear,” replied the Jew.

“And it is a creditable thing to have his acquaintance, an’t it, Fagin?” pursued Tom.

“Very much so, indeed, my dear,” replied the Jew. “They’re only jealous, Tom, because he won’t give it to them.”

“Ah!” cried Tom, triumphantly, “that’s where it is. He has cleaned me out; but I can go and earn some more when I like, – can’t I, Fagin?”

“To be sure you can,” replied the Jew; “and the sooner you go, the better, Tom; so make up your loss at once, and don’t lose any more time. Dodger, Charley, it’s time you were on the lay: – come, it’s near ten, and nothing done yet.”

In obedience to this hint, the boys, nodding to Nancy, took up their hats and left the room; the Dodger and his vivacious friend indulging as they went in many witticisms at the expense of Mr. Chitling, in whose conduct, it is but justice to say, there was nothing very conspicuous or peculiar, inasmuch as there are a great number of spirited young bloods upon town who pay a much higher price than Mr. Chitling for being seen in good society, and a great number of fine gentlemen (composing the good society aforesaid) who establish their reputation upon very much the same footing as flash Toby Crackit.

“Now,” said the Jew, when they had left the room, “I’ll go and get you that cash, Nancy. This is only the key of a little cupboard where I keep a few odd things the boys get, my dear. I never lock up my money, for I’ve got none to lock up, my dear – ha! ha! ha! – none to lock. It’s a poor trade, Nancy, and no thanks; but I’m fond of seeing the young people about me, and I bear it all; I bear it all. Hush!” he said, hastily concealing the key in his breast; “who’s that? Listen!”

The girl, who was sitting at the table with her arms folded, appeared in no way interested in the arrival, or to care whether the person, whoever he was, came or went, until the murmur of a man’s voice reached her ears. The instant she caught the sound she tore off her bonnet and shawl with the rapidity of lightning, and thrust them under the table. The Jew turning round immediately afterwards, she muttered a complaint of the heat in a tone of languor that contrasted very remarkably with the extreme haste and violence of this action, which, however, had been unobserved by Fagin, who had his back towards her at the time.

“Bah!” whispered the Jew, as though nettled by the interruption; “it’s the man I expected before; he’s coming down stairs. Not a word about the money while he’s here, Nance. He won’t stop long – not ten minutes, my dear.”

Laying his skinny forefinger upon his lip, the Jew carried a candle to the door as a man’s step was heard upon the stairs without, and reached it at the same moment as the visiter, who coming hastily into the room, was close upon the girl before he observed her.

It was Monks.

“Only one of my young people,” said the Jew, observing that Monks drew back on beholding a stranger. “Don’t move, Nancy.”

The girl drew closer to the table, and glancing at Monks with an air of careless levity, withdrew her eyes; but as he turned his towards the Jew, she stole another look, so keen and searching, and full of purpose, that if there had been any bystander to observe the change he could hardly have believed the two looks to have proceeded from the same person.

“Any news?” inquired the Jew.

“Great.”

“And – and – good?” asked the Jew hesitatingly, as though he feared to vex the other man by being too sanguine.

“Not bad any way,” replied Monks with a smile. “I have been prompt enough this time. Let me have a word with you.”