“Why, do you mean to say you couldn’t have done it if you had chosen?” demanded Monks, sternly. “Haven’t you done it with other boys scores of times? If you had had patience for a twelvemonth, at most, couldn’t you have got him convicted and sent safely out of the kingdom, perhaps for life?” “Whose turn would that have served, my dear?” inquired the Jew, humbly. “Mine,” replied Monks. “But not mine,” said the Jew, submissively. “He might have become of use to me. When there are two parties to a bargain, it is only reasonable that the interest of both should be consulted; is it, my good friend?” “What then?” demanded Monks, sulkily. “I saw it was not easy to train him to the business,” replied the Jew; “he was not like other boys in the same circumstances.” “Curse him, no!” muttered the man, “or he would have been a thief long ago.” “I had no hold upon him to make him worse,” pursued the Jew, anxiously watching the countenance of his companion. “His hand was not in; I had nothing to frighten him with, which we always must have in the beginning, or we labour in vain. What could I do? Send him out with the Dodger and Charley? We had enough of that at first, my dear; I trembled for us all.” “_That_ was not my doing,” observed Monks. “No, no, my dear!” renewed the Jew, “and I don’t quarrel with it now, because, if it had never happened, you might never have clapped eyes upon the boy to notice him, and so led to the discovery that it was him you were looking for. Well; I got him back for you by means of the girl, and then _she_ begins to favour him.” “Throttle the girl!” said Monks, impatiently. “Why, we can’t afford to do that just now, my dear,” replied the Jew, smiling; “and, besides, that sort of thing is not in our way, or one of these days I might be glad to have it done. I know what these girls are, Monks, well. As soon as the boy begins to harden, she’ll care no more for him than for a block of wood. You want him made a thief: if he is alive, I can make him one from this time; and if—if—” said the Jew, drawing nearer to the other,—“it’s not likely, mind,—but if the worst comes to the worst, and he is dead——” “It’s no fault of mine if he is!” interposed the other man, with a look of terror, and clasping the Jew’s arm with trembling hands. “Mind that, Fagin; I had no hand in it. Anything but his death, I told you from the first. I wont shed blood; it’s always found out, and haunts a man besides. If they shot him dead, I was not the cause; do you hear me? Fire this infernal den!—what’s that?” “What!” cried the Jew, grasping the coward round the body with both arms as he sprung to his feet. “Where?” “Yonder!” replied the man, glaring at the opposite wall. “The shadow—I saw the shadow of a woman, in a cloak and bonnet, pass along the wainscot like a breath!”