CHAPTER VII

Fagin the Jew and His Band

It was late next morning when Oliver awoke. There was no other person in the room but the old Jew, who was making himself some coffee for breakfast and whistling softly to himself as he stirred it round and round.

Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep he was not thoroughly awake; he was in a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking. He saw the Jew with his half-closed eyes and heard his low whistling.

When the coffee was ready the Jew stood for a few minutes as if he did not know how to employ himself, then he turned round and looked at Oliver, and called him by his name. He did not answer and was to all appearances asleep. The Jew now stepped gently to the door and fastened it. He then drew out from some secret hole in the floor, a small box which he placed carefully on the table. His eyes shone as he raised the lid, and looked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down and took out from the box a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with jewels.

"Ah!" said the Jew, smiling to himself in an ugly manner. "Clever dogs! Faithful to the last! Never informed about old Fagin! And why should they? It wouldn't have saved them from hanging. No, no, no! Fine fellows! Fine fellows!"

With these, and other similar reflections, the Jew replaced the watch in its place of safety. At least half a dozen more were drawn out, one by one from the same box, and examined with equal pleasure, besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and other articles of jewellery of fine workmanship.

As the Jew murmured to himself, his dark eyes fell on Oliver's face; the boy's eyes were fixed on his in silent curiosity, and the Jew realized that he had been observed. He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash; and, laying his hand on a bread knife which was on the table, started up furiously.

"What's that?" said the Jew. "What do you watch me for? Why are you awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick—quick! for your life!"

"I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir," replied Oliver. "I am sorry if I have disturbed you, sir."

"So you were not awake an hour ago?" said the Jew, looking fiercely at the boy.

"No! No! indeed!" replied Oliver.

"Are you sure?" cried the Jew, with a still fiercer look than before, and a threatening attitude.

"Upon my word I was not, sir," replied Oliver earnestly. "I was not, indeed, sir."

"It's all right, my dear," said the Jew, suddenly changing his tone and resuming his old manner, and playing with the knife a little, before he laid it down, as if to make Oliver think that he had picked it up in mere sport. "Of course I know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You're a brave boy. Ha! Ha! you're a brave boy, Oliver!" The Jew rubbed his hands as he laughed, but looked uneasily at the box.

"Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?" said the Jew, laying his hand upon it after a short pause.

"Yes, sir," replied Oliver.

"Ah!" said the Jew, turning rather pale. "They—they're mine, Oliver; my little property. All I have to live upon, in my old age. People call me a miser, my dear. Only a miser, that's all."

Oliver thought the old man must be a decided miser to live in such a dirty place with so many watches. He asked the Jew if he might get up.

"Certainly, my dear, certainly," replied the old gentleman. "Wait. There's a jug of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here and I'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear."

Oliver got up, walked across the room and bent for an instant to raise the jug, and when he turned his head, the box was gone.

He had scarcely washed himself when the Dodger returned, accompanied by a very active young friend, whom Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now introduced to him as Charlie Bates. The four sat down to breakfast on the coffee and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought with him inside his hat.

"Well," said the Jew, glancing cunningly at Oliver, and addressing himself to the Dodger, "I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears?"

"Hard," replied the Dodger.

"As nails," added Charlie Bates.

"Good boys, good boys!" said the Jew. "What have you got, Dodger?"

"A couple of pocket-books," replied that young gentleman.

"Lined?" inquired the Jew, eagerly.

"Pretty well," said the Dodger, producing his pocket-books.

"Not so heavy as they might be," said the Jew, after looking at the insides carefully; "but very neat and nicely made. A clever workman, isn't he, Oliver?"

"Very, indeed, sir," said Oliver. At which Mr. Charlie Bates laughed noisily; very much to the amazement of Oliver, who saw nothing to laugh at.

"And what have you got, my dear?" said Fagin to Charlie Bates.

"Handkerchiefs," replied Master Bates, producing four.

"Well," said the Jew, examining them closely; "they're very good ones. But you haven't marked them well, Charlie; so the marks shall be picked out with a needle, and we'll teach Oliver how to do it. Shall we, Oliver? Ha! ha! ha!"

"If you please, sir," said Oliver.

"You'd like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs as easily as Charlie Bates, wouldn't you, my dear?" said the Jew.

"Very much indeed, if you'll teach me, sir," replied Oliver.

Master Bates saw something so funny in this reply that he burst into another laugh which nearly choked him.

"He's so very green!" he said, when he recovered.

When the breakfast was cleared away, the merry old gentleman and the two boys played at a very uncommon game, which was performed in this way: the merry old gentleman put a snuff-box in one pocket of his trousers, a pocket-book in the other, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket. He fastened a false diamond pin in his shirt, and, buttoning his coat tightly round him, walked up and down the room with a stick, in imitation of the manner of an old man walking about the streets. Sometimes he stopped at the fire-place, and sometimes at the door, pretending that he was staring into shop-windows. At such times, he would look around him for fear of thieves, and would keep slapping all his pockets in turn to see that he hadn't lost anything. He did this in such a funny manner that Oliver laughed till the tears ran down his face. All this time the two boys followed him closely about, getting out of his sight so quickly, every time he turned round, that it was impossible to follow their movements. At last the Dodger trod upon his toes accidentally, while Charlie Bates stumbled up against him behind and in that one moment they took from him, with most extraordinary speed, snuffbox, pocket-book, shirt-pin, pocket-handkerchief, even the spectacle-case. If the old gentleman felt a hand in any one of the pockets, he cried out where it was; and the game began all over again.

When this game had been played a great many times, a couple of young ladies, one of whom was named Bet, and the other Nancy, called to see the young gentlemen. They were untidily dressed, and not exactly pretty, but they were very free and agreeable in their manners and Oliver thought them very nice indeed.

These visitors stayed a long time, drinking spirits and talking gaily. At last they went out, accompanied by Charlie Bates and the Dodger, having been provided by the good old Jew with money to spend.

"There, my dear," said Fagin, "that's a pleasant life, isn't it? Make these young gentlemen your models, and take their advice in all matters—especially the Dodger's, my dear. He'll be a great man himself, and will make you one too, if you follow his example.—Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my dear?" said the Jew.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver.

"See if you can take it out, without my feeling it, as you saw them do, when we were at play this morning."

Oliver held out the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had seen the Dodger hold it; and drew the handkerchief lightly out with the other hand.

"Is it gone?" cried the Jew.

"Here it is, sir," said Oliver, showing it in his hand.

"You're a clever boy, my dear," said the playful old gentleman, patting Oliver on the head approvingly. "I never saw a sharper lad. Here's a shilling for you. If you go on in this way you'll be a great man. And now come here; I'll show you how to take the marks out of the handkerchiefs."

Oliver wondered how picking the old gentleman's pocket would make him a great man. But thinking that the old Jew must know best, he followed him quietly to the table and was soon deeply engaged in his new study.