Oliver Twist – Day 46 of 173
‘They belong to the old gentleman,’ said Oliver, wringing his hands; ‘to the good, kind, old gentleman who took me into his house, and had me nursed, when I was near dying of the fever. Oh, pray send them back; send him back the books and money. Keep me here all my life long; but pray, pray send them back. He’ll think I stole them; the old lady: all of them who were so kind to me: will think I stole them. Oh, do have mercy upon me, and send them back!’
With these words, which were uttered with all the energy of passionate grief, Oliver fell upon his knees at the Jew’s feet; and beat his hands together, in perfect desperation.
‘The boy’s right,’ remarked Fagin, looking covertly round, and knitting his shaggy eyebrows into a hard knot. ‘You’re right, Oliver, you’re right; they will think you have stolen ’em. Ha! ha!’ chuckled the Jew, rubbing his hands, ‘it couldn’t have happened better, if we had chosen our time!’
‘Of course it couldn’t,’ replied Sikes; ‘I know’d that, directly I see him coming through Clerkenwell, with the books under his arm. It’s all right enough. They’re soft-hearted psalm-singers, or they wouldn’t have taken him in at all; and they’ll ask no questions after him, fear they should be obliged to prosecute, and so get him lagged. He’s safe enough.’
Oliver had looked from one to the other, while these words were being spoken, as if he were bewildered, and could scarecely understand what passed; but when Bill Sikes concluded, he jumped suddenly to his feet, and tore wildly from the room: uttering shrieks for help, which made the bare old house echo to the roof.
‘Keep back the dog, Bill!’ cried Nancy, springing before the door, and closing it, as the Jew and his two pupils darted out in pursuit. ‘Keep back the dog; he’ll tear the boy to pieces.’
‘Serve him right!’ cried Sikes, struggling to disengage himself from the girl’s grasp. ‘Stand off from me, or I’ll split your head against the wall.’
‘I don’t care for that, Bill, I don’t care for that,’ screamed the girl, struggling violently with the man, ‘the child shan’t be torn down by the dog, unless you kill me first.’
‘Shan’t he!’ said Sikes, setting his teeth. ‘I’ll soon do that, if you don’t keep off.’
The housebreaker flung the girl from him to the further end of the room, just as the Jew and the two boys returned, dragging Oliver among them.
‘What’s the matter here!’ said Fagin, looking round.
‘The girl’s gone mad, I think,’ replied Sikes, savagely.
‘No, she hasn’t,’ said Nancy, pale and breathless from the scuffle; ‘no, she hasn’t, Fagin; don’t think it.’
‘Then keep quiet, will you?’ said the Jew, with a threatening look.
‘No, I won’t do that, neither,’ replied Nancy, speaking very loud. ‘Come! What do you think of that?’
Mr. Fagin was sufficiently well acquainted with the manners and customs of that particular species of humanity to which Nancy belonged, to feel tolerably certain that it would be rather unsafe to prolong any conversation with her, at present. With the view of diverting the attention of the company, he turned to Oliver.
‘So you wanted to get away, my dear, did you?’ said the Jew, taking up a jagged and knotted club which law in a corner of the fireplace; ‘eh?’
Oliver made no reply. But he watched the Jew’s motions, and breathed quickly.
‘Wanted to get assistance; called for the police; did you?’ sneered the Jew, catching the boy by the arm. ‘We’ll cure you of that, my young master.’
The Jew inflicted a smart blow on Oliver’s shoulders with the club; and was raising it for a second, when the girl, rushing forward, wrested it from his hand. She flung it into the fire, with a force that brought some of the glowing coals whirling out into the room.
‘I won’t stand by and see it done, Fagin,’ cried the girl. ‘You’ve got the boy, and what more would you have?–Let him be–let him be–or I shall put that mark on some of you, that will bring me to the gallows before my time.’
The girl stamped her foot violently on the floor as she vented this threat; and with her lips compressed, and her hands clenched, looked alternately at the Jew and the other robber: her face quite colourless from the passion of rage into which she had gradually worked herself.
‘Why, Nancy!’ said the Jew, in a soothing tone; after a pause, during which he and Mr. Sikes had stared at one another in a disconcerted manner; ‘you,–you’re more clever than ever to-night. Ha! ha! my dear, you are acting beautifully.’
‘Am I!’ said the girl. ‘Take care I don’t overdo it. You will be the worse for it, Fagin, if I do; and so I tell you in good time to keep clear of me.’
There is something about a roused woman: especially if she add to all her other strong passions, the fierce impulses of recklessness and despair; which few men like to provoke. The Jew saw that it would be hopeless to affect any further mistake regarding the reality of Miss Nancy’s rage; and, shrinking involuntarily back a few paces, cast a glance, half imploring and half cowardly, at Sikes: as if to hint that he was the fittest person to pursue the dialogue.
Mr. Sikes, thus mutely appealed to; and possibly feeling his personal pride and influence interested in the immediate reduction of Miss Nancy to reason; gave utterance to about a couple of score of curses and threats, the rapid production of which reflected great credit on the fertility of his invention. As they produced no visible effect on the object against whom they were discharged, however, he resorted to more tangible arguments.