Bildungsromans; Boys -- Fiction; Criminals -- Fiction; Kidnapping victims -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
This was a very strong expression of approbation, an uncommonly hearty
welcome, from a person of Mr. Sikes’ temperament. Nancy, appearing much
gratified thereby, saluted him cordially.
“Bull’s-eye’s gone home with Tom,” observed Sikes, as he lighted them
up. “He’d have been in the way.”
“That’s right,” rejoined Nancy.
“So you’ve got the kid,” said Sikes when they had all reached the room:
closing the door as he spoke.
“Yes, here he is,” replied Nancy.
“Did he come quiet?” inquired Sikes.
“Like a lamb,” rejoined Nancy.
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Sikes, looking grimly at Oliver; “for the
sake of his young carcase: as would otherways have suffered for it.
Come here, young ’un; and let me read you a lectur’, which is as well
got over at once.”
Thus addressing his new pupil, Mr. Sikes pulled off Oliver’s cap and
threw it into a corner; and then, taking him by the shoulder, sat
himself down by the table, and stood the boy in front of him.
“Now, first: do you know wot this is?” inquired Sikes, taking up a
pocket-pistol which lay on the table.
Oliver replied in the affirmative.
“Well, then, look here,” continued Sikes. “This is powder; that ’ere’s
a bullet; and this is a little bit of a old hat for waddin’.”
Oliver murmured his comprehension of the different bodies referred to;
and Mr. Sikes proceeded to load the pistol, with great nicety and
deliberation.
“Now it’s loaded,” said Mr. Sikes, when he had finished.
“Yes, I see it is, sir,” replied Oliver.
“Well,” said the robber, grasping Oliver’s wrist, and putting the
barrel so close to his temple that they touched; at which moment the
boy could not repress a start; “if you speak a word when you’re out
o’doors with me, except when I speak to you, that loading will be in
your head without notice. So, if you _do_ make up your mind to speak
without leave, say your prayers first.”
Having bestowed a scowl upon the object of this warning, to increase
its effect, Mr. Sikes continued.
“As near as I know, there isn’t anybody as would be asking very
partickler arter you, if you _was_ disposed of; so I needn’t take this
devil-and-all of trouble to explain matters to you, if it warn’t for
your own good. D’ye hear me?”
“The short and the long of what you mean,” said Nancy: speaking very
emphatically, and slightly frowning at Oliver as if to bespeak his
serious attention to her words: “is, that if you’re crossed by him in
this job you have on hand, you’ll prevent his ever telling tales
afterwards, by shooting him through the head, and will take your chance
of swinging for it, as you do for a great many other things in the way
of business, every month of your life.”
“That’s it!” observed Mr. Sikes, approvingly; “women can always put
things in fewest words.—Except when it’s blowing up; and then they
lengthens it out. And now that he’s thoroughly up to it, let’s have
some supper, and get a snooze before starting.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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