Dogs are not generally apt to revenge injuries inflicted upon them by their masters; but Mr. Sikes’s dog, having faults of temper in common with his owner, and labouring, perhaps, at this moment, under a powerful sense of injury, made no more ado but at once fixed his teeth in one of the half-boots. Having given it a hearty shake, he retired, growling, under a form; just escaping the pewter measure which Mr. Sikes levelled at his head.
“You would, would you?” said Sikes, seizing the poker in one hand, and deliberately opening with the other a large clasp-knife, which he drew from his pocket. “Come here, you born devil! Come here! D’ye hear?”
The dog no doubt heard; because Mr. Sikes spoke in the very harshest key of a very harsh voice; but, appearing to entertain some unaccountable objection to having his throat cut, he remained where he was, and growled more fiercely than before: at the same time grasping the end of the poker between his teeth, and biting at it like a wild beast.
This resistance only infuriated Mr. Sikes the more; who, dropping on his knees, began to assail the animal most furiously. The dog jumped from right to left, and from left to right; snapping, growling, and barking; the man thrust and swore, and struck and blasphemed; and the struggle was reaching a most critical point for one or other; when, the door suddenly opening, the dog darted out: leaving Bill Sikes with the poker and the clasp-knife in his hands.
There must always be two parties to a quarrel, says the old adage. Mr. Sikes, being disappointed of the dog’s participation, at once transferred his share in the quarrel to the new comer.
“What the devil do you come in between me and my dog for?” said Sikes, with a fierce gesture.
“I didn’t know, my dear, I didn’t know,” replied Fagin, humbly; for the Jew was the new comer.
“Didn’t know, you white-livered thief!” growled Sikes. “Couldn’t you hear the noise?”
“Not a sound of it, as I’m a living man, Bill,” replied the Jew.
“Oh no! You hear nothing, you don’t,” retorted Sikes with a fierce sneer. “Sneaking in and out, so as nobody hears how you come or go! I wish you had been the dog, Fagin, half a minute ago.”
“Why?” inquired the Jew with a forced smile.
“‘Cause the government, as cares for the lives of such men as you, as haven’t half the pluck of curs, lets a man kill a dog how he likes,” replied Sikes, shutting up the knife with a very expressive look; “that’s why.”
The Jew rubbed his hands; and, sitting down at the table, affected to laugh at the pleasantry of his friend. He was obviously very ill at ease, however.
“Grin away,” said Sikes, replacing the poker, and surveying him with savage contempt; “grin away. You’ll never have the laugh at me, though, unless it’s behind a nightcap. I’ve got the upper hand over you, Fagin; and, d—me, I’ll keep it. There! If I go, you go; so take care of me.”
“Well, well, my dear,” said the Jew, “I know all that; we—we—have a mutual interest, Bill, a mutual interest.”
“Humph,” said Sikes, as if he thought the interest lay rather more on the Jew’s side than on his. “Well, what have you got to say to me?”
“It’s all passed safe through the melting-pot,” replied Fagin, “and this is your share. It’s rather more than it ought to be, my dear; but as I know you’ll do me a good turn another time, and—”
“Stow that gammon,” interposed the robber, impatiently. “Where is it? Hand over!”
“Yes, yes, Bill; give me time, give me time,” replied the Jew, soothingly. “Here it is! All safe!” As he spoke, he drew forth an old cotton handkerchief from his breast; and untying a large knot in one corner, produced a small brown-paper packet. Sikes, snatching it from him, hastily opened it; and proceeded to count the sovereigns it contained.
“This is all, is it?” inquired Sikes.
“All,” replied the Jew.
“You haven’t opened the parcel and swallowed one or two as you come along, have you?” inquired Sikes, suspiciously. “Don’t put on an injured look at the question; you’ve done it many a time. Jerk the tinkler.”