A long silence ensued, during which the Jew was plunged in deep thought, with his face wrinkled into an expression of villany perfectly demoniacal. Sikes eyed him furtively from time to time; and Nancy, apparently fearful of irritating the housebreaker, sat with her eyes fixed upon the fire, as if she had been deaf to all that passed. “Fagin,” said Sikes, abruptly breaking the stillness that prevailed, “is it worth fifty shiners extra, if it’s safely done from the outside?” “Yes,” said the Jew, suddenly rousing himself, as if from a trance. “Is it a bargain?” inquired Sikes. “Yes, my dear, yes,” rejoined the Jew, grasping the other’s hand, his eyes glistening, and every muscle in his face working with the excitement that the inquiry had awakened. “Then,” said Sikes, thrusting aside the Jew’s hand with some disdain, “let it come off as soon as you like. Toby and I were over the garden-wall the night afore last, sounding the panels of the door and shutters: the crib’s barred up at night like a jail, but there’s one part we can crack, safe and softly.” “Which is that, Bill?” asked the Jew eagerly. “Why,” whispered Sikes, “as you cross the lawn——” “Yes, yes,” said the Jew, bending his head forward, with his eyes almost starting out of it. “Umph!” cried Sikes, stopping short as the girl, scarcely moving her head, looked suddenly round and pointed for an instant to the Jew’s face. “Never mind which part it is. You can’t do it without me, I know; but it’s best to be on the safe side when one deals with you.” “As you like, my dear, as you like,” replied the Jew, biting his lip. “Is there no help wanted but yours and Toby’s?” “None,” said Sikes, “’cept a centre-bit and a boy. The first we’ve both got; the second you must find us.” “A boy!” exclaimed the Jew. “Oh! then it is a panel, eh?” “Never mind wot it is!” replied Sikes; “I want a boy, and he mustn’t be a big un. Lord!” said Mr. Sikes reflectively, “if I’d only got that young boy of Ned, the chimbley-sweeper’s—he kept him small on purpose, and let him out by the job. But the father gets lagged, and then the Juvenile Delinquent Society comes, and takes the boy away from a trade where he was arning money, teaches him to read and write, and in time makes a ’prentice of him. And so they go on,” said Mr. Sikes, his wrath rising with the recollection of his wrongs,—“so they go on; and, if they’d got money enough, (which it’s a Providence they have not,) we shouldn’t have half-a-dozen boys left in the whole trade in a year or two.” “No more we should,” acquiesced the Jew, who had been considering during this speech, and had only caught the last sentence. “Bill!” “What now?” inquired Sikes.