“How came that dog here?” he asked.
“Alone. Three hours ago.”
“To-night’s paper says that Fagin’s took. Is it true, or a lie?”
“True.”
They were silent again.
“Damn you all!” said Sikes, passing his hand across his forehead. “Have you nothing to say to me?”
There was an uneasy movement among them, but nobody spoke.
“You keep this house,” said Sikes, turning his face to Crackit, “do you mean to sell me, or to let me lie here till this hunt is over?”
“You may stop here, if you think it safe,” returned the person addressed, after some hesitation.
Sikes carried his eyes slowly up the wall behind him: rather trying to turn his head than actually doing it: and said, “Is—it—the body—is it buried?”
They shook their heads.
“Why isn’t it!” he retorted with the same glance behind him. “Wot do they keep such ugly things above the ground for?—Who’s that knocking?”
Crackit intimated, by a motion of his hand as he left the room, that there was nothing to fear; and directly came back with Charley Bates behind him. Sikes sat opposite the door, so that the moment the boy entered the room he encountered his figure.
“Toby,” said the boy falling back, as Sikes turned his eyes towards him, “why didn’t you tell me this, downstairs?”
There had been something so tremendous in the shrinking off of the three, that the wretched man was willing to propitiate even this lad. Accordingly he nodded, and made as though he would shake hands with him.
“Let me go into some other room,” said the boy, retreating still farther.
“Charley!” said Sikes, stepping forward. “Don’t you—don’t you know me?”
“Don’t come nearer me,” answered the boy, still retreating, and looking, with horror in his eyes, upon the murderer’s face. “You monster!”
The man stopped half-way, and they looked at each other; but Sikes’s eyes sunk gradually to the ground.
“Witness you three,” cried the boy shaking his clenched fist, and becoming more and more excited as he spoke. “Witness you three—I’m not afraid of him—if they come here after him, I’ll give him up; I will. I tell you out at once. He may kill me for it if he likes, or if dares, but if I am here I’ll give him up. I’d give him up if he was to be boiled alive. Murder! Help! If there’s the pluck of a man among you three, you’ll help me. Murder! Help! Down with him!”
Pouring out these cries, and accompanying them with violent gesticulation, the boy actually threw himself, single-handed, upon the strong man, and in the intensity of his energy and the suddenness of his surprise, brought him heavily to the ground.
The three spectators seemed quite stupified. They offered no interference, and the boy and man rolled on the ground together; the former, heedless of the blows that showered upon him, wrenching his hands tighter and tighter in the garments about the murderer’s breast, and never ceasing to call for help with all his might.
The contest, however, was too unequal to last long. Sikes had him down, and his knee was on his throat, when Crackit pulled him back with a look of alarm, and pointed to the window. There were lights gleaming below, voices in loud and earnest conversation, the tramp of hurried footsteps—endless they seemed in number—crossing the nearest wooden bridge. One man on horseback seemed to be among the crowd; for there was the noise of hoofs rattling on the uneven pavement. The gleam of lights increased; the footsteps came more thickly and noisily on. Then, came a loud knocking at the door, and then a hoarse murmur from such a multitude of angry voices as would have made the boldest quail.
“Help!” shrieked the boy, in a voice that rent the air. “He’s here! Break down the door!”
“In the King’s name,” cried the voices without; and the hoarse cry arose again, but louder.
“Break down the door!” screamed the boy. “I tell you they’ll never open it. Run straight to the room where the light is. Break down the door!”
Strokes, thick and heavy, rattled upon the door and lower window-shutters as he ceased to speak, and a loud huzzah burst from the crowd; giving the listener, for the first time, some adequate idea of its immense extent.