WHEREIN THIS HISTORY REVERTS TO MR. FAGIN AND COMPANY
While these things were passing in the country workhouse, Mr. Fagin sat in
the old den--the same from which Oliver had been removed by the girl--brooding
over a dull, smoky fire. He held a pair of bellows upon his knee, with which he
had apparently been endeavouring to rouse it into more cheerful action; but he
had fallen into deep thought; and with his arms folded on them, and his chin
resting on his thumbs, fixed his eyes, abstractedly, on the rusty bars.
At a table behind him sat the Artful Dodger, Master Charles Bates, and Mr.
Chitling: all intent upon a game of whist; the Artful taking dummy against
Master Bates and Mr. Chitling. The countenance of the first-named gentleman,
peculiarly intelligent at all times, acquired great additional interest from his
close observance of the game, and his attentive perusal of Mr. Chitling's hand;
upon which, from time to time, as occasion served, he bestowed a variety of
earnest glances: wisely regulating his own play by the result of his
observations upon his neighbour's cards. It being a cold night, the Dodger wore
his hat, as, indeed, was often his custom within doors. He also sustained a clay
pipe between his teeth, which he only removed for a brief space when he deemed
it necessary to apply for refreshment to a quart pot upon the table, which stood
ready filled with gin-and-water for the accommodation of the company.
Master Bates was also attentive to the play; but being of a more excitable
nature than his accomplished friend, it was observable that he more frequently
applied himself to the gin-and-water, and moreover indulged in many jests and
irrelevant remarks, all highly unbecoming a scientific rubber. Indeed, the
Artful, presuming upon their close attachment, more than once took occasion to
reason gravely with his companion upon these improprieties; all of which
remonstrances, Master Bates received in extremely good part; merely requesting
his friend to be 'blowed,' or to insert his head in a sack, or replying with
some other neatly-turned witticism of a similar kind, the happy application of
which, excited considerable admiration in the mind of Mr. Chitling. It was
remarkable that the latter gentleman and his partner invariably lost; and that
the circumstance, so far from angering Master Bates, appeared to afford him the
highest amusement, inasmuch as he laughed most uproariously at the end of every
deal, and protested that he had never seen such a jolly game in all his born
days.
'That's two doubles and the rub,' said Mr. Chitling, with a very long face,
as he drew half-a-crown from his waistcoat-pocket. 'I never see such a feller as
you, Jack; you win everything. Even when we've good cards, Charley and I can't
make nothing of 'em.'
Either the master or the manner of this remark, which was made very ruefully,
delighted Charley Bates so much, that his consequent shout of laughter roused
the Jew from his reverie, and induced him to inquire what was the matter.
'Matter, Fagin!' cried Charley. 'I wish you had watched the play. Tommy
Chitling hasn't won a point; and I went partners with him against the Artfull
and dumb.'
'Ay, ay!' said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficiently demonstrated that he
was at no loss to understand the reason. 'Try 'em again, Tom; try 'em again.'
'No more of it for me, thank 'ee, Fagin,' replied Mr. Chitling; 'I've had
enough. That 'ere Dodger has such a run of luck that there's no standing again'
him.'
'Ha! ha! my dear,' replied the Jew, 'you must get up very early in the
morning, to win against the Dodger.'
'Morning!' said Charley Bates; 'you must put your boots on over-night, and
have a telescope at each eye, and a opera-glass between your shoulders, if you
want to come over him.'
Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments with much philosophy, and
offered to cut any gentleman in company, for the first picture-card, at a
shilling at a time. Nobody accepting the challenge, and his pipe being by this
time smoked out, he proceeded to amuse himself by sketching a ground-plan of
Newgate on the table with the piece of chalk which had served him in lieu of
counters; whistling, meantime, with peculiar shrillness.
'How precious dull you are, Tommy!' said the Dodger, stopping short when
there had been a long silence; and addressing Mr. Chitling. 'What do you think
he's thinking of, Fagin?'
'How should I know, my dear?' replied the Jew, looking round as he plied the
bellows. 'About his losses, maybe; or the little retirement in the country that
he's just left, eh? Ha! ha! Is that it, my dear?'
'Not a bit of it,' replied the Dodger, stopping the subject of discourse as
Mr. Chitling was about to reply. 'What do YOU say, Charley?'
'_I_ should say,' replied Master Bates, with a grin, 'that he was uncommon
sweet upon Betsy. See how he's a-blushing! Oh, my eye! here's a
merry-go-rounder! Tommy Chitling's in love! Oh, Fagin, Fagin! what a spree!'
Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chitling being the victim of
the tender passion, Master Bates threw himself back in his chair with such
violence, that he lost his balance, and pitched over upon the floor; where (the
accident abating nothing of his merriment) he lay at full length until his laugh
was over, when he resumed his former position, and began another laugh.
'Never mind him, my dear,' said the Jew, winking at Mr. Dawkins, and giving
Master Bates a reproving tap with the nozzle of the bellows. 'Betsy's a fine
girl. Stick up to her, Tom. Stick up to her.'
'What I mean to say, Fagin,' replied Mr. Chitling, very red in the face, 'is,
that that isn't anything to anybody here.'
'No more it is,' replied the Jew; 'Charley will talk. Don't mind him, my
dear; don't mind him. Betsy's a fine girl. Do as she bids you, Tom, and you will
make your fortune.'
'So I DO do as she bids me,' replied Mr. Chitling; 'I shouldn't have been
milled, if it hadn't been for her advice. But it turned out a good job for you;
didn't it, Fagin! And what's six weeks of it? It must come, some time or
another, and why not in the winter time when you don't want to go out a-walking
so much; eh, Fagin?'
'Ah, to be sure, my dear,' replied the Jew.
'You wouldn't mind it again, Tom, would you,' asked the Dodger, winking upon
Charley and the Jew, 'if Bet was all right?'
'I mean to say that I shouldn't,' replied Tom, angrily. 'There, now. Ah!
Who'll say as much as that, I should like to know; eh, Fagin?'
'Nobody, my dear,' replied the Jew; 'not a soul, Tom. I don't know one of 'em
that would do it besides you; not one of 'em, my dear.'
'I might have got clear off, if I'd split upon her; mightn't I, Fagin?'
angrily pursued the poor half-witted dupe. 'A word from me would have done it;
wouldn't it, Fagin?'
'To be sure it would, my dear,' replied the Jew.
'But I didn't blab it; did I, Fagin?' demanded Tom, pouring question upon
question with great volubility.
'No, no, to be sure,' replied the Jew; 'you were too stout-hearted for that.
A deal too stout, my dear!'
'Perhaps I was,' rejoined Tom, looking round; 'and if I was, what's to laugh
at, in that; eh, Fagin?'
The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considerably roused, hastened to
assure him that nobody was laughing; and to prove the gravity of the company,
appealed to Master Bates, the principal offender. But, unfortunately, Charley,
in opening his mouth to reply that he was never more serious in his life, was
unable to prevent the escape of such a violent roar, that the abused Mr.
Chitling, without any preliminary ceremonies, rushed across the room and aimed a
blow at the offender; who, being skilful in evading pursuit, ducked to avoid it,
and chose his time so well that it lighted on the chest of the merry old
gentleman, and caused him to stagger to the wall, where he stood panting for
breath, while Mr. Chitling looked on in intense dismay.
'Hark!' cried the Dodger at this moment, 'I heard the tinkler.' Catching up
the light, he crept softly upstairs.
The bell was rung again, with some impatience, while the party were in
darkness. After a short pause, the Dodger reappeared, and whispered Fagin
mysteriously.
'What!' cried the Jew, 'alone?'
The Dodger nodded in the affirmative, and, shading the flame of the candle
with his hand, gave Charley Bates a private intimation, in dumb show, that he
had better not be funny just then. Having performed this friendly office, he
fixed his eyes on the Jew's face, and awaited his directions.
The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for some seconds; his face
working with agitation the while, as if he dreaded something, and feared to know
the worst. At length he raised his head.
'Where is he?' he asked.
The Dodger pointed to the floor above, and made a gesture, as if to leave the
room.
'Yes,' said the Jew, answering the mute inquiry; 'bring him down.
Hush! Quiet, Charley! Gently, Tom! Scarce, scarce!'
This brief direction to Charley Bates, and his recent antagonist, was softly
and immediately obeyed. There was no sound of their whereabout, when the Dodger
descended the stairs, bearing the light in his hand, and followed by a man in a
coarse smock-frock; who, after casting a hurried glance round the room, pulled
off a large wrapper which had concealed the lower portion of his face, and
disclosed: all haggard, unwashed, and unshorn: the features of flash Toby
Crackit.
'How are you, Faguey?' said this worthy, nodding to the Jew. 'Pop that shawl
away in my castor, Dodger, so that I may know where to find it when I cut;
that's the time of day! You'll be a fine young cracksman afore the old file
now.'
With these words he pulled up the smock-frock; and, winding it round his
middle, drew a chair to the fire, and placed his feet upon the hob.
'See there, Faguey,' he said, pointing disconsolately to his top boots; 'not
a drop of Day and Martin since you know when; not a bubble of blacking, by Jove!
But don't look at me in that way, man. All in good time. I can't talk about
business till I've eat and drank; so produce the sustainance, and let's have a
quiet fill-out for the first time these three days!'
The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eatables there were, upon the
table; and, seating himself opposite the housebreaker, waited his leisure.
To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in a hurry to open the
conversation. At first, the Jew contented himself with patiently watching his
countenance, as if to gain from its expression some clue to the intelligence he
brought; but in vain.
He looked tired and worn, but there was the same complacent repose upon his
features that they always wore: and through dirt, and beard, and whisker, there
still shone, unimpaired, the self-satisfied smirk of flash Toby Crackit. Then
the Jew, in an agony of impatience, watched every morsel he put into his mouth;
pacing up and down the room, meanwhile, in irrepressible excitement. It was all
of no use. Toby continued to eat with the utmost outward indifference, until he
could eat no more; then, ordering the Dodger out, he closed the door, mixed a
glass of spirits and water, and composed himself for talking.
'First and foremost, Faguey,' said Toby.
'Yes, yes!' interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair.
Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and water, and to declare
that the gin was excellent; then placing his feet against the low mantelpiece,
so as to bring his boots to about the level of his eye, he quietly resumed.
'First and foremost, Faguey,' said the housebreaker, 'how's Bill?'
'What!' screamed the Jew, starting from his seat.
'Why, you don't mean to say--' began Toby, turning pale.
'Mean!' cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the ground. 'Where are they?
Sikes and the boy! Where are they? Where have they been? Where are they hiding?
Why have they not been here?'
'The crack failed,' said Toby faintly.
'I know it,' replied the Jew, tearing a newspaper from his pocket and
pointing to it. 'What more?'
'They fired and hit the boy. We cut over the fields at the back, with him
between us--straight as the crow flies--through hedge and ditch. They gave
chase. Damme! the whole country was awake, and the dogs upon us.'
'The boy!'
'Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. We stopped to take him
between us; his head hung down, and he was cold. They were close upon our heels;
every man for himself, and each from the gallows! We parted company, and left
the youngster
lying in a ditch. Alive or dead, that's all I know about him.'
The Jew stopped to hear no more; but uttering a loud yell, and twining his
hands in his hair, rushed from the room, and from the house.
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