“No, no, my dear, I know you’re not,” said the Jew; “but—” and again the old man paused.
“But wot?” inquired Sikes.
“I didn’t know whether she mightn’t p’r’aps be out of sorts, you know, my dear, as she was the other night,” replied the Jew.
At this confession, Miss Nancy burst into a loud laugh; and, swallowing a glass of brandy, shook her head with an air of defiance, and burst into sundry exclamations of “Keep the game a going!” “Never say die!” and the like. These seemed to have the effect of re-assuring both gentlemen; for the Jew nodded his head with a satisfied air, and resumed his seat: as did Mr. Sikes likewise.
“Now, Fagin,” said Nancy with a laugh. “Tell Bill at once, about Oliver!”
“Ha! you’re a clever one, my dear: the sharpest girl I ever saw!” said the Jew, patting her on the neck. “It was about Oliver I was going to speak, sure enough. Ha! ha! ha!”
“What about him?” demanded Sikes.
“He’s the boy for you, my dear,” replied the Jew in a hoarse whisper; laying his finger on the side of his nose, and grinning frightfully.
“He!” exclaimed Sikes.
“Have him, Bill!” said Nancy. “I would, if I was in your place. He mayn’t be so much up, as any of the others; but that’s not what you want, if he’s only to open a door for you. Depend upon it he’s a safe one, Bill.”
“I know he is,” rejoined Fagin. “He’s been in good training these last few weeks, and it’s time he began to work for his bread. Besides, the others are all too big.”
“Well, he is just the size I want,” said Mr. Sikes, ruminating.
“And will do everything you want, Bill, my dear,” interposed the Jew; “he can’t help himself. That is, if you frighten him enough.”
“Frighten him!” echoed Sikes. “It’ll be no sham frightening, mind you. If there’s anything queer about him when we once get into the work; in for a penny, in for a pound. You won’t see him alive again, Fagin. Think of that, before you send him. Mark my words!” said the robber, poising a crowbar, which he had drawn from under the bedstead.
“I’ve thought of it all,” said the Jew with energy. “I’ve—I’ve had my eye upon him, my dears, close—close. Once let him feel that he is one of us; once fill his mind with the idea that he has been a thief; and he’s ours! Ours for his life. Oho! It couldn’t have come about better!” The old man crossed his arms upon his breast; and, drawing his head and shoulders into a heap, literally hugged himself for joy.
“Ours!” said Sikes. “Yours, you mean.”
“Perhaps I do, my dear,” said the Jew, with a shrill chuckle. “Mine, if you like, Bill.”
“And wot,” said Sikes, scowling fiercely on his agreeable friend, “wot makes you take so much pains about one chalk-faced kid, when you know there are fifty boys snoozing about Common Garden every night, as you might pick and choose from?”
“Because they’re of no use to me, my dear,” replied the Jew, with some confusion, “not worth the taking. Their looks convict ’em when they get into trouble, and I lose ’em all. With this boy, properly managed, my dears, I could do what I couldn’t with twenty of them. Besides,” said the Jew, recovering his self-possestion, “he has us now if he could only give us leg-bail again; and he must be in the same boat with us. Never mind how he came there; it’s quite enough for my power over him that he was in a robbery; that’s all I want. Now, how much better this is, than being obliged to put the poor leetle boy out of the way—which would be dangerous, and we should lose by it besides.”
“When is it to be done?” asked Nancy, stopping some turbulent exclamation on the part of Mr. Sikes, expressive of the disgust with which he received Fagin’s affectation of humanity.
“Ah, to be sure,” said the Jew; “when is it to be done, Bill?”
“I planned with Toby, the night arter to-morrow,” rejoined Sikes in a surly voice, “if he heerd nothing from me to the contrairy.”