Bildungsromans; Boys -- Fiction; Criminals -- Fiction; Kidnapping victims -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
“To be sure you can, and the sooner you go the better, Tom; so make up
your loss at once, and don’t lose any more time. Dodger! Charley! It’s
time you were on the lay. Come! It’s near ten, and nothing done yet.”
In obedience to this hint, the boys, nodding to Nancy, took up their
hats, and left the room; the Dodger and his vivacious friend indulging,
as they went, in many witticisms at the expense of Mr. Chitling; in
whose conduct, it is but justice to say, there was nothing very
conspicuous or peculiar: inasmuch as there are a great number of
spirited young bloods upon town, who pay a much higher price than Mr.
Chitling for being seen in good society: and a great number of fine
gentlemen (composing the good society aforesaid) who established their
reputation upon very much the same footing as flash Toby Crackit.
“Now,” said Fagin, when they had left the room, “I’ll go and get you
that cash, Nancy. This is only the key of a little cupboard where I
keep a few odd things the boys get, my dear. I never lock up my money,
for I’ve got none to lock up, my dear—ha! ha! ha!—none to lock up. It’s
a poor trade, Nancy, and no thanks; but I’m fond of seeing the young
people about me; and I bear it all, I bear it all. Hush!” he said,
hastily concealing the key in his breast; “who’s that? Listen!”
The girl, who was sitting at the table with her arms folded, appeared
in no way interested in the arrival: or to care whether the person,
whoever he was, came or went: until the murmur of a man’s voice reached
her ears. The instant she caught the sound, she tore off her bonnet and
shawl, with the rapidity of lightning, and thrust them under the table.
The Jew, turning round immediately afterwards, she muttered a complaint
of the heat: in a tone of languor that contrasted, very remarkably,
with the extreme haste and violence of this action: which, however, had
been unobserved by Fagin, who had his back towards her at the time.
“Bah!” he whispered, as though nettled by the interruption; “it’s the
man I expected before; he’s coming downstairs. Not a word about the
money while he’s here, Nance. He won’t stop long. Not ten minutes, my
dear.”
Laying his skinny forefinger upon his lip, the Jew carried a candle to
the door, as a man’s step was heard upon the stairs without. He reached
it, at the same moment as the visitor, who, coming hastily into the
room, was close upon the girl before he observed her.
It was Monks.
“Only one of my young people,” said Fagin, observing that Monks drew
back, on beholding a stranger. “Don’t move, Nancy.”
The girl drew closer to the table, and glancing at Monks with an air of
careless levity, withdrew her eyes; but as he turned towards Fagin, she
stole another look; so keen and searching, and full of purpose, that if
there had been any bystander to observe the change, he could hardly
have believed the two looks to have proceeded from the same person.
“Any news?” inquired Fagin.
“Great.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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