CHAPTER XIII

The Attempt

When Oliver awoke the next morning the Jew told him that he was to be taken to the house of Bill Sikes that night.

"To ... to ... stop there, sir?" asked Oliver, anxiously.

"No, no, my dear. Not to stop there," replied the Jew. "Don't be afraid, Oliver, you shall come back to us. I suppose you want to know what you're going to Bill's for—eh, my dear?"

"Yes, sir, I want to know," replied Oliver.

"Wait till Bill tells you, then," said the Jew.

At night the Jew gave him a candle to burn and a book to read, and told him to wait until they came to fetch him. Then he said to him: "Be careful, Oliver! He is a rough man, and thinks nothing of blood when he is angry. Whatever happens, say nothing, and do what he tells you."

Having given him this warning, the Jew left the house.

Oliver was at a loss as to the real purpose and meaning of Fagin's words. He remained lost in thought for some minutes; and then, with a heavy sigh, he took up the book which the Jew had left him and began to read. The book was all about crime and great criminals. He read of dreadful crimes that made the blood run cold. The terrible descriptions were so real that the pages seemed to turn red with the blood, and the words upon them to be sounded in his ears as if they were whispered by the spirits of the dead.

Seized with great fear, the boy closed the book and pushed it away from him. Then, falling upon his knees, he prayed Heaven to spare him from such deeds and rescue him from his present dangers.

He had finished his prayer, but still remained with his head buried in his hands, when he was aroused by a slight noise.

"What's that!" he cried, starting up and catching sight of someone standing by the door. "Who's there?"

"Me. Only me," replied a shaking voice.

Oliver raised the candle above his head, and looked towards the door. It was Nancy.

"Put down the light," said the girl, turning away her head. "It hurts my eyes."

Oliver saw that she was very pale, and gently inquired if she was ill. The girl threw herself into a chair, but made no reply.

"God forgive me!" she cried after a while, "I never thought of this."

She rocked herself to and fro, caught her throat and gasped for breath.

"Nancy!" cried Oliver, "what is it?"

The girl beat her hands upon her knees and trembled with cold. Oliver stirred the fire. Drawing her chair close to it she sat there for a while without speaking; at length she raised her head and looked round.

"I don't know what comes over me sometimes," said she; "it's this damp, dirty room, I think. Now, Nolly, dear, are you ready?"

"Am I to go with you?" asked Oliver.

"Yes. I have come from Bill," replied the girl. "You are to go with me."

"What for?" asked Oliver, drawing back.

"What for?" echoed the girl, raising her eyes and avoiding looking at Oliver. "Oh! for no harm."

"I don't believe it," said Oliver, whet had watched her closely.

"Have it your own way," replied the girl, pretending to laugh. "For no good, then."

Oliver could see that he had some power over the girl's better feelings and for an instant thought of appealing to her pity for his helpless state. But then it occurred to him that it was not yet eleven o'clock, and that many people were still in the streets who might help him to get free. He stepped forward and said that he was ready.

The girl eyed him narrowly; she had guessed what had been passing through his mind. She said:

"I have saved you from being ill-treated once, and I will again, and I do now. I have promised that you would be quiet and silent; if you are not, you will only do harm to yourself, and to me, and perhaps be my death. I have borne all this for you already."

She pointed hastily to the blue marks of blows on her neck and arms, and continued:

"Remember this! And don't let me suffer more for you, just now. If I could help you, I would, but I have not the power. They don't mean to harm you; whatever they make you do, is no fault of yours. Hush! Every word from you is a blow for me. Give me your hand. Make haste! Your hand!"

She caught Oliver's hand and, blowing out the candle, drew him after her up the stairs. The door was opened quickly, by someone unseen in the darkness, and was as quickly closed, when they had passed out. A carriage was waiting; the girl pulled Oliver hurriedly in with her, and drew the curtains. The driver needed no directions; he whipped his horse into full speed. The carriage stopped at Bill Sikes's house. In a moment they were inside, and the door was shut.

"This way," said the girl, releasing her hold for the first time. "Bill!"

"Hallo!" replied Sikes, appearing at the head of the stairs with a candle. "Oh! Come on! So you've got the child. Did he come quiet?"

"Like a lamb,' said Nancy.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Sikes, looking severely at Oliver, "for his own sake. Come here, my boy, and listen to what I'm going to say."

Mr. Sikes, taking Oliver by the shoulder, sat down by the table and stood the boy in front of him.

"Now, first: do you know what this is?" inquired Sikes, taking up a pocket-pistol which lay on the table.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver.

"Well, then, look here," continued Sikes. "This is powder, and this is a bullet." Then, having loaded the pistol, he grasped Oliver's wrist and put the barrel so close to his head that they touched. "If you speak a word," he said, "when you're out with me, except when I speak to you, that bullet will be in your head without notice. So, if you do make up your mind to speak without permission, say your prayers first. And now, Nancy, let's have some supper, and get a short sleep before we start."

It was a cheerless morning when they got into the street; blowing and raining hard; and the clouds looking dull and stormy.

Mr. Bill Sikes, holding Oliver firmly by the hand, hurried on through the streets of the great city and along the country roads which at length took their place.

It was quite dark when, through narrow lanes and across muddy fields, they came to a lonely and decayed house. No light could be seen from the windows; the house seemed to be uninhabited. A little pressure on the door from Sikes's hand; it yielded to the pressure and they passed in together.

"Hallo," cried a loud, hoarse voice, as soon as they set foot in the passage.

"Don't make such a noise," said Sikes, bolting the door. "Show a light, Toby."

It was Toby Crackit, a house-breaker.

They entered a low, dark room with a smoky fire, two or three broken chairs, a table and a very old sofa.

"Bill, my boy!" said Mr. Crackit, "I'm glad to see you. I was almost afraid you'd given it up; in which case I should have made the attempt without your help. Hallo!"

Uttering this exclamation as his eye rested on Oliver, Mr. Toby Crackit demanded who the boy was.

"The boy. Only the boy. Now, if you'll give us something to eat and drink while we're waiting, you'll put some heart in us."

"Here," said Toby, placing some food and a bottle upon the table. "Success to the attempt!" He filled a glass with spirits, and drank off its contents. Mr. Sikes did the same.

At half-past one they wrapped their necks and chins in large dark shawls and drew on their great-coats. Toby, opening a cupboard, brought forth a pair of loaded pistols which he pushed into his pockets.

"Now, then," he said, "is everything ready? Nothing forgotten?"

"All right," said Sikes, holding Oliver by the hand. "Take his other hand, Toby."

The two robbers went out with Oliver between them.

It was now very dark. The mist was much heavier than it had been in the early part of the night. They crossed a bridge and soon arrived at the little town of Chertsey. They hurried through the main street, which at that late hour was wholly deserted. Then they turned up a road upon the left hand. After walking about a quarter of a mile they stopped before a house surrounded by a wall, to the top of which Toby Crackit, scarcely pausing to take breath, climbed in a twinkling,

"The boy next," said Toby, "lift him up; I'll catch hold of him."

Before Oliver had time to look round, Sikes had caught him under the arms; and in three or four seconds he and Toby were lying on the grass on the other side. Sikes followed directly, and they stole cautiously towards the house.

And now, for the first time, Oliver, almost mad with grief and terror, saw that housebreaking and robbery, if not murder, were the objects of their journey. A mist came before his eyes; his face was covered with a cold sweat; his limbs failed him and he sank upon his knees.

"Get up," murmured Sikes, trembling with rage, and drawing the pistol from his pocket. "Get up, or I'll scatter your brains upon the grass."

"Oh! for God's sake let me go!" cried Oliver; "let me run away and die in the fields. I will never come near London; never, never! Oh! pray have mercy on me, and do not make me steal."

Sikes swore a dreadful oath and would have fired the pistol if Toby had not struck it from his hand and, putting his hand upon the boy's mouth, dragged him to the house.

"Hush!" cried Toby; "say another word and I'll knock you down with a crack on the head. That makes no noise, and is quite as certain. Here, Bill, force the shutter open."

After some delay, and some assistance from Toby, the shutter was open. It was a little window about five feet and a half above the ground, at the back of the house. The inmates had probably not thought it worth while to defend it more securely, but it was large enough to admit a boy of Oliver's size.

"Now listen," whispered Sikes, drawing a lantern from his pocket; "I'm going to put you through there. Take this light; go softly up the steps straight before you, and along the little hall, to the street door; unfasten it, and let us in."

Now Toby stood firmly with his head against the wall beneath the window, and his hands upon his knees, so as to make a step of his back. This was no sooner done than Sikes, mounting upon him, put Oliver gently through the window with his feet first; and without leaving hold of his collar, planted him safely on the inside,

"Take this lantern," said Sikes, looking into the room. "You see the stairs before you."

Oliver, more dead than alive, gasped out, "Yes." Sikes, pointing to the street-door with the pistol-barrel, briefly advised him to take notice that he was within shot all the way; and that if he hesitated, he would fall dead that instant.

"It's done in a minute," said Sikes, in the same low whisper. "Directly I leave go of you, do your work. Listen!"

"What's that?" whispered the other man.

They listened intently.

"Nothing," said Sikes, releasing his hold of Oliver. "Now!"

In the short time he had to collect his senses, the boy had firmly resolved that, whether he died in the attempt or not, he would make one effort to rush upstairs from the hall, and warn the family. Filled with this idea, he advanced at once, but stealthily.

"Come back!" suddenly cried Sikes aloud. "Back! Back!"

Frightened by the sudden noise in the stillness of the night and by a loud cry which followed it, Oliver let his lantern fall, and knew not whether to advance or fly.

The cry was repeated—a light appeared—a vision of two terrified half-dressed men at the top of the stairs swam before his eyes—a flash—a loud noise—a smoke—a crash somewhere.

Sikes had disappeared for an instant; but he was up again, and had him by the collar after the smoke had cleared away. He fired his own pistol after the men, who were already retreating, and dragged the boy up.

"Hold on to me tighter," said Sikes, as he drew him through the window. "Give me a shawl here. They've hit him. Quick! How the boy bleeds!"

Then came the loud ringing of a bell, mixed with the noise of pistols and the shouts of men, and the sensation of being carried over uneven ground at a rapid pace. And then the noises grew confused in the distance; and a cold, deadly feeling crept over the boy's heart; and he saw and heard no more.