In a dreadful state of doubt and uncertainty, the agonised young woman staggered to the gate, and then, exchanging her faltering walk for a swift run, returned by the most devious and complicated route she could think of, to the domicile of the Jew.
Mr. Bill Sikes no sooner heard the account of the expedition delivered, than he very hastily called up the white dog, and, putting on his hat, expeditiously departed: without devoting any time to the formality of wishing the company good-morning.
“We must know where he is, my dears; he must be found,” said the Jew greatly excited. “Charley, do nothing but skulk about, till you bring home some news of him! Nancy, my dear, I must have him found. I trust to you, my dear,—to you and the Artful for everything! Stay, stay,” added the Jew, unlocking a drawer with a shaking hand; “there’s money, my dears. I shall shut up this shop to-night. You’ll know where to find me! Don’t stop here a minute. Not an instant, my dears!”
With these words, he pushed them from the room: and carefully double-locking and barring the door behind them, drew from its place of concealment the box which he had unintentionally disclosed to Oliver. Then, he hastily proceeded to dispose the watches and jewellery beneath his clothing.
A rap at the door startled him in this occupation. “Who’s there?” he cried in a shrill tone.
“Me!” replied the voice of the Dodger, through the key-hole.
“What now?” cried the Jew impatiently.
“Is he to be kidnapped to the other ken, Nancy says?” inquired the Dodger.
“Yes,” replied the Jew, “wherever she lays hands on him. Find him, find him out, that’s all. I shall know what to do next; never fear.”
The boy murmured a reply of intelligence; and hurried downstairs after his companions.
“He has not peached so far,” said the Jew as he pursued his occupation. “If he means to blab us among his new friends, we may stop his mouth yet.”
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Chapter XIV
Comprising Further Particulars of Oliver’s Stay at Mr. Brownlow’s, with the Remarkable Prediction Which One Mr. Grimwig Uttered Concerning Him, When He Went out on an Errand
OLIVER soon recovering from the fainting-fit into which Mr. Brownlow’s abrupt exclamation had thrown him, the subject of the picture was carefully avoided, both by the old gentleman and Mrs. Bedwin, in the conversation that ensued: which indeed bore no reference to Oliver’s history or prospects, but was confined to such topics as might amuse without exciting him. He was still too weak to get up to breakfast; but, when he came down into the housekeeper’s room next day, his first act was to cast an eager glance at the wall, in the hope of again looking on the face of the beautiful lady. His expectations were disappointed, however, for the picture had been removed.
“Ah!” said the housekeeper, watching the direction of Oliver’s eyes. “It is gone, you see.”
“I see it is, ma’am,” replied Oliver. “Why have they taken it away?”
“It has been taken down, child, because Mr. Brownlow said, that as it seemed to worry you, perhaps it might prevent your getting well, you know,” rejoined the old lady.
“Oh, no, indeed. It didn’t worry me, ma’am,” said Oliver. “I liked to see it. I quite loved it.”
“Well, well!” said the old lady, good-humouredly; “you get well as fast as ever you can, dear, and it shall be hung up again. There! I promise you that! Now, let us talk about something else.”
This was all the information Oliver could obtain about the picture at that time. As the old lady had been so kind to him in his illness, he endeavoured to think no more of the subject just then; so he listened attentively to a great many stories she told him, about an amiable and handsome daughter of hers, who was married to an amiable and handsome man, and lived in the country; and about a son, who was clerk to a merchant in the West Indies; and who was, also, such a good young man, and wrote such dutiful letters home four times a-year, that it brought the tears into her eyes to talk about them. When the old lady had expatiated, a long time, on the excellences of her children, and the merits of her kind good husband besides, who had been dead and gone, poor dear soul! just six-and-twenty years, it was time to have tea. After tea she began to teach Oliver cribbage: which he learnt as quickly as she could teach: and at which game they played, with great interest and gravity, until it was time for the invalid to have some warm wine and water, with a slice of dry toast, and then to go cosily to bed.