Chapter XXV

Oliver Twist

by Charles Dickens

Wherein this History Reverts to Mr. Fagin and Company

While these things were passing in the country workhouse, Mr.
Fagin sat in the old den--the same from which Oliver had been removed
by the girl--brooding over a dull, smoky fire. He held a pair of
bellows upon his knee, with which he had apparently been endeavouring
to rouse it into more cheerful action; but he had fallen into deep
thought; and with his arms folded on them, and his chin resting on
his thumbs, fixed his eyes, abstractedly, on the rusty bars.

At a table behind him sat the Artful Dodger, Master Charles
Bates, and Mr. Chitling: all intent upon a game of whist; the Artful
taking dummy against Master Bates and Mr. Chitling. The countenance
of the first-named gentleman, peculiarly intelligent at all times,
acquired great additional interest from his close observance of the
game, and his attentive perusal of Mr. Chitling's hand; upon which,
from time to time, as occasion served, he bestowed a variety of
earnest glances: wisely regulating his own play by the result of his
observations upon his neighbour's cards. It being a cold night, the
Dodger wore his hat, as, indeed, was often his custom within doors.
He also sustained a clay pipe between his teeth, which he only
removed for a brief space when he deemed it necessary to apply for
refreshment to a quart pot upon the table, which stood ready filled
with gin-and-water for the accommodation of the company.

Master Bates was also attentive to the play; but being of a more
excitable nature than his accomplished friend, it was observable that
he more frequently applied himself to the gin-and-water, and moreover
indulged in many jests and irrelevant remarks, all highly unbecoming
a scientific rubber. Indeed, the Artful, presuming upon their close
attachment, more than once took occasion to reason gravely with his
companion upon these improprieties; all of which remonstrances,
Master Bates received in extremely good part; merely requesting his
friend to be 'blowed,' or to insert his head in a sack, or replying
with some other neatly-turned witticism of a similar kind, the happy
application of which, excited considerable admiration in the mind of
Mr. Chitling. It was remarkable that the latter gentleman and his
partner invariably lost; and that the circumstance, so far from
angering Master Bates, appeared to afford him the highest amusement,
inasmuch as he laughed most uproariously at the end of every deal,
and protested that he had never seen such a jolly game in all his
born days.

'That's two doubles and the rub,' said Mr. Chitling, with a very
long face, as he drew half-a-crown from his waistcoat-pocket. 'I
never see such a feller as you, Jack; you win everything. Even when
we've good cards, Charley and I can't make nothing of 'em.'

Either the master or the manner of this remark, which was made
very ruefully, delighted Charley Bates so much, that his consequent
shout of laughter roused the Jew from his reverie, and induced him to
inquire what was the matter.

'Matter, Fagin!' cried Charley. 'I wish you had watched the
play. Tommy Chitling hasn't won a point; and I went partners with
him against the Artfull and dumb.'

'Ay, ay!' said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficiently
demonstrated that he was at no loss to understand the reason. 'Try
'em again, Tom; try 'em again.'

'No more of it for me, thank 'ee, Fagin,' replied Mr. Chitling;
'I've had enough. That 'ere Dodger has such a run of luck that
there's no standing again' him.'

'Ha! ha! my dear,' replied the Jew, 'you must get up very early
in the morning, to win against the Dodger.'

'Morning!' said Charley Bates; 'you must put your boots on
over-night, and have a telescope at each eye, and a opera-glass
between your shoulders, if you want to come over him.'

Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments with much
philosophy, and offered to cut any gentleman in company, for the
first picture-card, at a shilling at a time. Nobody accepting the
challenge, and his pipe being by this time smoked out, he proceeded
to amuse himself by sketching a ground-plan of Newgate on the table
with the piece of chalk which had served him in lieu of counters;
whistling, meantime, with peculiar shrillness.

'How precious dull you are, Tommy!' said the Dodger, stopping
short when there had been a long silence; and addressing Mr.
Chitling. 'What do you think he's thinking of, Fagin?'

'How should I know, my dear?' replied the Jew, looking round as
he plied the bellows. 'About his losses, maybe; or the little
retirement in the country that he's just left, eh? Ha! ha! Is that
it, my dear?'

'Not a bit of it,' replied the Dodger, stopping the subject of
discourse as Mr. Chitling was about to reply. 'What do you say,
Charley?'

'_I_ should say,' replied Master Bates, with a grin, 'that he
was uncommon sweet upon Betsy. See how he's a-blushing! Oh, my eye!
here's a merry-go-rounder! Tommy Chitling's in love! Oh, Fagin,
Fagin! what a spree!'

Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chitling being the
victim of the tender passion, Master Bates threw himself back in his
chair with such violence, that he lost his balance, and pitched over
upon the floor; where (the accident abating nothing of his merriment)
he lay at full length until his laugh was over, when he resumed his
former position, and began another laugh.

'Never mind him, my dear,' said the Jew, winking at Mr. Dawkins,
and giving Master Bates a reproving tap with the nozzle of the
bellows. 'Betsy's a fine girl. Stick up to her, Tom. Stick up to
her.'

'What I mean to say, Fagin,' replied Mr. Chitling, very red in
the face, 'is, that that isn't anything to anybody here.'

'No more it is,' replied the Jew; 'Charley will talk. Don't
mind him, my dear; don't mind him. Betsy's a fine girl. Do as she
bids you, Tom, and you will make your fortune.'

'So I do do as she bids me,' replied Mr. Chitling; 'I shouldn't
have been milled, if it hadn't been for her advice. But it turned
out a good job for you; didn't it, Fagin! And what's six weeks of
it? It must come, some time or another, and why not in the winter
time when you don't want to go out a-walking so much; eh, Fagin?'

'Ah, to be sure, my dear,' replied the Jew.

'You wouldn't mind it again, Tom, would you,' asked the Dodger,
winking upon Charley and the Jew, 'if Bet was all right?'

'I mean to say that I shouldn't,' replied Tom, angrily. 'There,
now. Ah! Who'll say as much as that, I should like to know; eh,
Fagin?'

'Nobody, my dear,' replied the Jew; 'not a soul, Tom. I don't
know one of 'em that would do it besides you; not one of 'em, my
dear.'

'I might have got clear off, if I'd split upon her; mightn't I,
Fagin?' angrily pursued the poor half-witted dupe. 'A word from me
would have done it; wouldn't it, Fagin?'

'To be sure it would, my dear,' replied the Jew.

'But I didn't blab it; did I, Fagin?' demanded Tom, pouring
question upon question with great volubility.

'No, no, to be sure,' replied the Jew; 'you were too
stout-hearted for that. A deal too stout, my dear!'

'Perhaps I was,' rejoined Tom, looking round; 'and if I was,
what's to laugh at, in that; eh, Fagin?'

The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considerably roused,
hastened to assure him that nobody was laughing; and to prove the
gravity of the company, appealed to Master Bates, the principal
offender. But, unfortunately, Charley, in opening his mouth to reply
that he was never more serious in his life, was unable to prevent the
escape of such a violent roar, that the abused Mr. Chitling, without
any preliminary ceremonies, rushed across the room and aimed a blow
at the offender; who, being skilful in evading pursuit, ducked to
avoid it, and chose his time so well that it lighted on the chest of
the merry old gentleman, and caused him to stagger to the wall, where
he stood panting for breath, while Mr. Chitling looked on in intense
dismay.

'Hark!' cried the Dodger at this moment, 'I heard the tinkler.'
Catching up the light, he crept softly upstairs.

The bell was rung again, with some impatience, while the party
were in darkness. After a short pause, the Dodger reappeared, and
whispered Fagin mysteriously.

'What!' cried the Jew, 'alone?'

The Dodger nodded in the affirmative, and, shading the flame of
the candle with his hand, gave Charley Bates a private intimation, in
dumb show, that he had better not be funny just then. Having
performed this friendly office, he fixed his eyes on the Jew's face,
and awaited his directions.

The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for some
seconds; his face working with agitation the while, as if he dreaded
something, and feared to know the worst. At length he raised his
head.

'Where is he?' he asked.

The Dodger pointed to the floor above, and made a gesture, as if
to leave the room.

'Yes,' said the Jew, answering the mute inquiry; 'bring him
down.

Hush! Quiet, Charley! Gently, Tom! Scarce, scarce!'

This brief direction to Charley Bates, and his recent
antagonist, was softly and immediately obeyed. There was no sound of
their whereabout, when the Dodger descended the stairs, bearing the
light in his hand, and followed by a man in a coarse smock-frock;
who, after casting a hurried glance round the room, pulled off a
large wrapper which had concealed the lower portion of his face, and
disclosed: all haggard, unwashed, and unshorn: the features of flash
Toby Crackit.

'How are you, Faguey?' said this worthy, nodding to the Jew.
'Pop that shawl away in my castor, Dodger, so that I may know where
to find it when I cut; that's the time of day! You'll be a fine
young cracksman afore the old file now.'

With these words he pulled up the smock-frock; and, winding it
round his middle, drew a chair to the fire, and placed his feet upon
the hob.

'See there, Faguey,' he said, pointing disconsolately to his top
boots; 'not a drop of Day and Martin since you know when; not a
bubble of blacking, by Jove! But don't look at me in that way, man.
All in good time. I can't talk about business till I've eat and
drank; so produce the sustainance, and let's have a quiet fill-out
for the first time these three days!'

The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eatables there
were, upon the table; and, seating himself opposite the housebreaker,
waited his leisure.

To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in a hurry to
open the conversation. At first, the Jew contented himself with
patiently watching his countenance, as if to gain from its expression
some clue to the intelligence he brought; but in vain.

He looked tired and worn, but there was the same complacent
repose upon his features that they always wore: and through dirt,
and beard, and whisker, there still shone, unimpaired, the
self-satisfied smirk of flash Toby Crackit. Then the Jew, in an agony
of impatience, watched every morsel he put into his mouth; pacing up
and down the room, meanwhile, in irrepressible excitement. It was
all of no use. Toby continued to eat with the utmost outward
indifference, until he could eat no more; then, ordering the Dodger
out, he closed the door, mixed a glass of spirits and water, and
composed himself for talking.

'First and foremost, Faguey,' said Toby.

'Yes, yes!' interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair.

Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and water, and
to declare that the gin was excellent; then placing his feet against
the low mantelpiece, so as to bring his boots to about the level of
his eye, he quietly resumed.

'First and foremost, Faguey,' said the housebreaker, 'how's
Bill?'

'What!' screamed the Jew, starting from his seat.

'Why, you don't mean to say--' began Toby, turning pale.

'Mean!' cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the ground. 'Where
are they? Sikes and the boy! Where are they? Where have they been?
Where are they hiding? Why have they not been here?'

'The crack failed,' said Toby faintly.

'I know it,' replied the Jew, tearing a newspaper from his
pocket and pointing to it. 'What more?'

'They fired and hit the boy. We cut over the fields at the
back, with him between us--straight as the crow flies--through hedge
and ditch. They gave chase. Damme! the whole country was awake, and
the dogs upon us.'

'The boy!'

'Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. We
stopped to take him between us; his head hung down, and he was cold.
They were close upon our heels; every man for himself, and each from
the gallows! We parted company, and left the youngster lying in a
ditch. Alive or dead, that's all I know about him.'

The Jew stopped to hear no more; but uttering a loud yell, and
twining his hands in his hair, rushed from the room, and from the
house.