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Oliver Twist 160
Get on； young ’un！”
Bull’s…eye wagged his tail in acknowledgement of this unusually
endearing form of speech； and； giving vent to another admonitory
growl for the benefit of Oliver； led the way onward。
It was Smithfield that they were crossing； although it might
have been Grosvenor Square； for anything Oliver knew to the
contrary。 The night was dark and foggy。 The lights in the shops
could scarcely struggle through the heavy mist； which thickened
every moment and shrouded the streets and houses in gloom；
rendering the strange place still stranger in Oliver’s eyes； and
making his uncertainty the more dismal and depressing。
They had hurried on a few paces； when a deep church…bell
struck the hour。 With its first stroke； his two conductors stopped；
and turned their heads in the direction whence the sound
proceeded。
“Eight o’clock； Bill；” said Nancy； when the bell ceased。
“What’s the good of telling me that； I can hear it； can’t I！”
replied Sikes。
“I wonder whether they can hear it；” said Nancy。
“Of course they can；” replied Sikes。 “It was Bartlemy time
when I was shopped； and there warn’t a penny trumpet in the fair；
as I couldn’t hear the squeaking on。 Arter I was locked up for the
night； the row and din outside made the thundering old jail so
silent； that I could almost have beat my brains out against the iron
plates of the door。”
“Poor fellows！” said Nancy； who still had her face turned
towards the quarter in which the bell had sounded。 “Oh； Bill； such
fine young chaps as them！”
“Yes； that’s all you women think of；” answered Sikes。 “Fine
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Oliver Twist 161
young chaps！ Well； they’re as good as dead； so it don’t matter
much。”
With this consolation； Mr。 Sikes appeared to repress a rising
tendency to jealousy？ and； clasping Oliver’s wrist more firmly； told
him to step out again。
“Wait a minute！” said the girl； “I wouldn’t hurry by； if it was
you that was coming out to be hung； the next time eight o’clock
struck； Bill。 I’d walk round and round the place till I dropped； if
the snow was on the ground； and I haven’t a shawl to cover me。”
“And what good would that do？” inquired the unsentimental
Mr。 Sikes。 “Unless you could pitch over a file and twenty yards of
good stout rope； you might as well be walking fifty mile off； or not
walking at all； for all the good it would do me。 Come on； and don’t
stand preaching there。”
The girl burst into a laugh； drew her shawl more closely round
her； and they walked away。 But Oliver felt her hand tremble； and；
looking up in her face as they passed a gas lamp saw that it had
turned a deadly white。
They walked on； by little frequented and dirty ways； for a full
half…hour； meeting very few people； and those appearing from
their looks to hold much the same position in society as Mr。 Sikes
himself。 At length they turned into a very filthy narrow street；
nearly full of old…clothes shops： the dog running forward； as if
conscious that there was no further occasion for his keeping on
guard； stopped before the door of a shop that was closed and
apparently untenanted。 The house was in a ruinous condition； and
on the door was nailed a board； intimating that it was to let； which
looked as if it had hung there for many years。
“All right；” cried Sikes； glancing cautiously about。
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Nancy stooped below the shutters； and Oliver heard the sound
of a bell。 They crossed to the opposite side of the street and stood
for a few moments under a lamp。 A noise； as if a sash…window
were gently raised； was heard； and soon afterwards the door softly
opened。 Mr。 Sikes then seized the terrified boy by the collar with
very little ceremony； and all three were quickly inside the house。
The passage was perfectly dark。 They waited； while the person
who had let him in chained and barred the door。
“Anybody here？” inquired Sikes。
“No；” replied a voice； which Oliver thought he had heard
before。
“Is the old ’un here？” asked the robber。
“Yes；” replied the voice； “and precious down in the mouth he
has been。 Won’t he be glad to see you？ Oh； no！” The style of this
reply； as well as the voice which delivered it； seemed familiar to
Oliver’s ears； but it was impossible to distinguish even the form of
the speaker in the darkness。
“Let’s have a glim；” said Sikes； “or we shall go breaking our
necks； or treading on the dog。 Look after your legs if you do！
That’s all。”
“Stand still a moment； and I’ll get you one；” replied the voice
The receding footsteps of the speaker were heard； and； in another
minute； the form of Mr。 John Dawkins； otherwise the Artful
Dodger； appeared。 He bore in his right hand a tallow candle stuck
in the end of a cleft stick。
The young gentleman did not stop to bestow any other mark of
recognition upon Oliver than a humorous grin； but； turning away；
beckoned the visitors to follow him down a flight of stairs。 They
crossed an empty kitchen； and； opening the door of a low； earthy…
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smelling room； which seemed to have been built in a small backyard were received with a shout of laughter。
“Oh； my wig； my wig！” cried Master Charles Bates from whose
lungs the laughter had proceeded； “here he is！ oh cry； here he is！
Oh； Fagin； look at him！ Fagin do look at him！ I can’t bear it； it is
such a jolly game； I can’t bear it。 Hold me； somebody； while I laugh
it out。”
With this irrepressible ebullition of mirth； Master Bates laid
himself flat on the floor； and kicked convulsively for five minutes；
in an ecstasy of facetious joy。 Then jumping to his feet； he
snatched the cleft stick from the Dodger； and； advancing to Oliver；
viewed him round and round； while the Jew； taking off his nightcap； made a great number of low bows to the bewildered boy。 The
Artful； meantime； who was of a rather saturnine disposition； and
seldom gave way to merriment when it interfered with business；
rifled Oliver’s pockets with steady assiduity。
“Look at his togs； Fagin！” said Charley； putting the light so
close to his new jacket as nearly to set him on fire。 “Look at his
togs！ Superfine cloth； and the heavy swell cut！ Oh； my eye； what a
game！ And his books； too！ Nothing but a gentleman； Fagin！”
“Delighted to see you looking so well； my dear；” said the Jew；
bowing with mock humility。 “The Artful shall give you another
suit； my dear； for fear you should spoil that Sunday one。 Why；
didn’t you write； my dear； and say you were coming。 We’d have got
something warm for supper。”
At this； Master Bates roared again； so loud； that Fagin himself
relaxed； and even the Dodger smiled； but as the Artful drew forth
the five…pound note at that instant； it is doubtful whether the sally
or the discovery awakened his merriment。
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Oliver Twist 164
“Hallo！ What’s this？” inquired Sikes； stepping forward as the
Jew seized the note。 “That’s mine； Fagin。”
“No； no； my dear；” said the Jew。 “Mine； Bill； mine。 You shall
have the books。”
“If that ain’t mine！” said Bill Sikes； putting on his hat with a
determined air； “mine and Nancy’s； that is； I’ll take the boy back
again。”
The Jew started。 Oliver started too； though from a very
different cause； for he hoped that the dispute might really end in
his being taken back。
“Come！ Hand over； will you？” said Sikes。
“This is hardly fair； Bill； hardly fair； is it； Nancy？” inquired the
Jew。
“Fair； or not fair；” retorted Sikes； “hand over； I tell you！ Do you
think Nancy and me has got nothing else to do with our precious
time but to spend it in scouting arter； and kidnapping； every
young boy as gets grabbed through you？ Give it here； you
avaricious old skeleton； give it here！”
With this gentle remonstrance； Mr。 Sikes plucked the note from
between the Jew’s finger and thumb； and looking the old man
coolly in the face； folded it up small； and tied it in his neckerchief。
“That’s for our share of the trouble；” said Sikes； “and not half
enough； neither。 You may keep the books； if you’re fond of
reading。 If you ain’t； sell ’em。”
“They’re very pretty；” said Charley Bates； who； with sundry
grimaces； had been affecting to read one of the volumes in
question； “beautiful writing； isn’t it； Oliver？” At sight of the
dismayed look with which Oliver regarded his tormentors； Master
Bates； who was blessed with a lively sense of the ludicrous； fell
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into another ecstasy； more boisterous than the first。
“They belong to the old gentleman；” said Oliver； wringing his
hands； “to the good； kind old gentleman who took me into his
house； and had me nursed； when I was near dying of the fever。 Oh；
pray send them back； send him back the books and money。 Keep
me here all my life lo