“And I’m afraid, you see,” added the Jew,speaking as if he had not noticed the interruption;and regarding the other closely as he did so,—“I’m afraid that, if the game was up with us,it might be up with a good many more,and that it would come out rather worse for you than it would for me, my dear.”
The man started, and turned round upon the Jew.But the old gentleman’s shoulders were shrugged up to his ears;and his eyes were vacantly staring on the opposite wall.
There was a long pause.Every member of the respectable coterie appeared plunged in his own reflections; not excepting the dog, who by a certain malicious licking of his lips seemed to be meditating an attack upon the legs of the first gentleman or lady he might encounter in the streets when he went out.
“Somebody must find out wot’s been done at the office,” said Mr. Sikes in a much lower tone than he had taken since he came in.
The Jew nodded assent.
“If he hasn’t peached, and is committed,there’s no fear till he comes out again,” said Mr.Sikes, “and then he must be taken care on.You must get hold of him somehow.”
Again the Jew nodded.
The prudence of this line of action, indeed,was obvious; but, unfortunately,there was one very strong objection to its being adopted.This was, that the Dodger, and Charley Bates,and Fagin, and Mr. William Sikes, happened,one and all, to entertain a violent and deeply-rooted antipathy to going near a police-office on any ground or pretext whatever.
How long they might have sat and looked at each other,in a state of uncertainty not the most pleasant of its kind,it is difficult to guess.It is not necessary to make any guesses on the subject,however; for the sudden entrance of the two young ladies whom Oliver had seen on a former occasion, caused the conversation to flow afresh.
“The very thing!” said the Jew. “Bet will go; won’t you, my dear?”
“Wheres?” inquired the young lady.
“Only just up to the office, my dear,” said the Jew coaxingly.
It is due to the young lady to say that she did not positively affirm that she would not, but that she merely expressed an emphatic and earnest desire to be “blessed” if she would; a polite and delicate evasion of the request, which shows the young lady to have been possessed of that natural good breeding which cannot bear to inflict upon a fellow-creature, the pain of a direct and pointed refusal.
The Jew’s countenance fell.He turned from this young lady, who was gaily,not to say gorgeously attired, in a red gown,green boots, and yellow curl-papers,to the other female.
“Nancy, my dear,” said the Jew in a soothing manner, “what do _you_ say?”
“That it won’t do; so it’s no use a-trying it on, Fagin, ” replied Nancy.
“What do you mean by that?” said Mr. Sikes, looking up in a surly manner.
“What I say, Bill,” replied the lady collectedly.
“Why, you’re just the very person for it,” reasoned Mr.Sikes: “nobody about here knows anything of you.”
“And as I don’t want ’em to, neither,” replied Nancy in the same composed manner,“it’s rather more no than yes with me, Bill.”
“She’ll go, Fagin,” said Sikes.
“No, she won’t, Fagin,” said Nancy.
“Yes, she will, Fagin,” said Sikes.
And Mr. Sikes was right. By dint of alternate threats,promises, and bribes,the lady in question was ultimately prevailed upon to undertake the commission.She was not, indeed,withheld by the same considerations as her agreeable friend;for, having recently removed into the neighborhood of Field Lane from the remote but genteel suburb of Ratcliffe, she was not under the same apprehension of being recognised by any of her numerous acquaintances.
Accordingly, with a clean white apron tied over her gown,and her curl-papers tucked up under a straw bonnet,—both articles of dress being provided from the Jew’s inexhaustible stock,—Miss Nancy prepared to issue forth on her errand.
“Stop a minute, my dear,” said the Jew, producing,a little covered basket. “Carry that in one hand.It looks more respectable, my dear.”
“Give her a door-key to carry in her t’other one, Fagin,” said Sikes; “it looks real and genivine like.”
“Yes, yes, my dear, so it does,” said the Jew,hanging a large street-door key on the forefinger of the young lady’s right hand. “There; very good!Very good indeed, my dear!” said the Jew, rubbing his hands.
“Oh, my brother!My poor, dear, sweet, innocent little brother!” exclaimed Nancy, bursting into tears,and wringing the little basket and the street-door key in an agony of distress.“What has become of him!Where have they taken him to!Oh, do have pity, and tell me what’s been done with the dear boy,gentlemen; do, gentlemen, if you please, gentlemen!”
Having uttered those words in a most lamentable and heart-broken tone:to the immeasurable delight of her hearers:Miss Nancy paused, winked to the company,nodded smilingly round, and disappeared.
“Ah, she’s a clever girl, my dears,” said the Jew,turning round to his young friends,and shaking his head gravely,as if in mute admonition to them to follow the bright example they had just beheld.
“She’s a honour to her sex,” said Mr. Sikes,filling his glass, and smiting the table with his enormous fist.“Here’s her health, and wishing they was all like her!”
While these, and many other encomiums,were being passed on the accomplished Nancy,that young lady made the best of her way to the police-office;whither, notwithstanding a little natural timidity consequent upon walking through the streets alone and unprotected, she arrived in perfect safety shortly afterwards.
Entering by the back way,she tapped softly with the key at one of the cell-doors,and listened. There was no sound within:so she coughed and listened again.Still there was no reply: so she spoke.
“Nolly, dear?” murmured Nancy in a gentle voice; “Nolly?”
There was nobody inside but a miserable shoeless criminal,who had been taken up for playing the flute, and who,the offence against society having been clearly proved,had been very properly committed by Mr.Fang to the House of Correction for one month;with the appropriate and amusing remark that since he had so much breath to spare, it would be more wholesomely expended on the treadmill than in a musical instrument. He made no answer: being occupied mentally bewailing the loss of the flute, which had been confiscated for the use of the county: so Nancy passed on to the next cell, and knocked there.
“Well!” cried a faint and feeble voice.
“Is there a little boy here?” inquired Nancy, with a preliminary sob.
“No,” replied the voice; “God forbid.”
This was a vagrant of sixty-five,who was going to prison for _not_ playing the flute;or, in other words, for begging in the streets,and doing nothing for his livelihood.In the next cell was another man,who was going to the same prison for hawking tin saucepans without license;thereby doing something for his living,in defiance of the Stamp-office.
But, as neither of these criminals answered to the name of Oliver,or knew anything about him,Nancy made straight up to the bluff officer in the striped waistcoat;and with the most piteous wailings and lamentations,rendered more piteous by a prompt and efficient use of the street-door key and the little basket, demanded her own dear brother.
“I haven’t got him, my dear,” said the old man.
“Where is he?” screamed Nancy, in a distracted manner.
“Why, the gentleman’s got him,” replied the officer.
“What gentleman!Oh, gracious heavens!What gentleman?” exclaimed Nancy.