CHAPTER XV

A Mysterious Character Appears upon the Scene

Fagin had gained the street corner before he began to recover from the effect of Toby Crackit's information. Avoiding, as much as possible, all the main streets, he at length came to a public house called The Three Cripples, which was the favourite haunt of thieves and criminals.

He walked straight upstairs, and, opening the door of a room, looked anxiously about, shading his eyes with his hand, as if in search of some particular person. The room was lit by two gas-lights, the glare of which was prevented by the barred shutters and closely-drawn curtains, from being visible outside. The place was so full of tobacco smoke that at first it was scarcely possible to see anything more. Gradually, however, as the eye grew more accustomed to the scene, the spectator became aware of the presence of a numerous company, male and female, crowded round a long table, drinking and singing noisily.

Fagin looked eagerly from face to face, but apparently without meeting that of which he was in search. At last, catching the eye of the landlord, he made a slight signal to him and left the room.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Fagin?" inquired the man, as he followed him out to the landing. "Won't you join us? They'll be delighted, every one of them."

The Jew shook his head impatiently, and said in a whisper. "Is he here?"

"Monks, do you mean?" inquired the landlord, hesitating.

"Hush!" said the Jew. "Yes."

"No," said the man, "but I'm expecting him. If you'll wait ten minutes, he'll be—"

"No, no," said the Jew; "tell him I came here to see him; and that he must come to me tonight."

So saying the Jew left the place and turned his face homeward. It was within an hour of midnight; the weather was piercing cold and a sharp wind was blowing. He had reached the corner of his own street when a dark figure emerged from the darkness and, crossing the road, came up to him unnoticed.

"Fagin!" whispered a voice close to his ear.

"Ah!" said the Jew, turning quickly round, "is that—"

"Yes!" interrupted the stranger. "I have been lingering here these two hours. Where the devil have you been?"

"Looking for you at The Three Cripples. On your business all night."

"Oh, of course!" said the stranger, with a sneer. "Well; and what's come of it?"

"Nothing good," said the Jew.

They went inside together, and talked for some time in whispers. Then Monks, for this was the stranger's name, said, raising his voice a little:

"I tell you again, it was badly planned. Why not have kept him here among the rest, and made a pickpocket of him at once?"

"Only hear him!" exclaimed the Jew, shrugging his shoulders.

"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 more patience, couldn't you have got him arrested 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," replied the Jew. "He might have become of use to me. When there are two parties to a bargain, it is only reasonable that the interests of both should be consulted. I saw it was not easy to train him to the business; 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. "I had nothing to frighten him with; which we must always have in the beginning, or we labour in vain. What could I do? Send him out with the Dodger and Charlie? 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," replied the Jew. "And I don't quarrel with it now; because if it had never happened you might never have seen the boy you were looking for. Well! I got him back for you by means of the girl; and then she begins to favour him."

"Kill 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 done it. I know what these girls are, Monks. 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 but if the worst comes to the worst, and he is dead—"

"It's no fault of mine if he is!" interrupted the other man, with a look of terror, and grasping 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 won't 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? Oh! what's that?"

"What?" cried the Jew, grasping the coward with both arms as he jumped to his feet. "Where?"

"There!" 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 wall like a breath!"

The Jew released his hold and they both rushed out of the room. There was nothing but the empty staircase. They listened intently: a deep silence reigned throughout the house.

"It's your fancy," said the Jew, turning to his companion.

"I'll swear I saw it," replied Monks trembling. "It was bending forward when I saw it first; and, when I spoke, it darted away."

The Jew looked contemptuously at the pale face of his companion, and told him he could accompany him upstairs, if he wished. They looked into the rooms; they were cold, bare and empty. They descended into the passage, and from there into the cellars below; all was empty and still as death.