Oliver Twist
THE BURGLARY
“Hallo!” a loud, voice, as soon as they set in the passage.
“Don’t make such a row,” said Sikes, the door. “Show a glim, Toby.”
“Aha! my pal!” the same voice. “A glim, Barney, a glim! Show the in, Barney; wake up first, if convenient.”
The appeared to a boot-jack, or some such article, at the person he addressed, to him from his slumbers: for the noise of a body, violently, was heard; and then an muttering, as of a man sleep and awake.
“Do you hear?” the same voice. “There’s Bill Sikes in the passage with nobody to do the to him; and you sleeping there, as if you took with your meals, and nothing stronger. Are you any now, or do you want the iron to wake you thoroughly?”
A pair of shuffled, hastily, across the of the room, as this was put; and there issued, from a door on the right hand; first, a candle: and next, the of the same who has been as under the of speaking through his nose, and as waiter at the public-house on Saffron Hill.
“Bister Sikes!” Barney, with or joy; “cub id, sir; id.”
“Here! you on first,” said Sikes, Oliver in of him. “Quicker! or I shall upon your heels.”
Muttering a upon his tardiness, Sikes pushed Oliver him; and they entered a low dark room with a fire, two or three chairs, a table, and a very old couch: on which, with his much higher than his head, a man was at full length, a long pipe. He was in a smartly-cut snuff-coloured coat, with large buttons; an orange neckerchief; a coarse, staring, shawl-pattern waistcoat; and breeches. Mr. Crackit (for he it was) had no very great quantity of hair, either upon his or face; but what he had, was of a dye, and into long curls, through which he occasionally some very dirty fingers, with large common rings. He was a above the middle size, and weak in the legs; but this by no means from his own of his top-boots, which he contemplated, in their situation, with satisfaction.
“Bill, my boy!” said this figure, his the door, “I’m to see you. I was almost you’d it up: in which case I should have a personal wentur. Hallo!”
Uttering this in a of great surprise, as his rested on Oliver, Mr. Toby Crackit himself into a posture, and who that was.
“The boy. Only the boy!” Sikes, a chair the fire.
“Wud of Bister Fagid’s lads,” Barney, with a grin.
“Fagin’s, eh!” Toby, looking at Oliver. “Wot an boy that’ll make, for the old ladies’ pockets in chapels! His is a fortin’ to him.”
“There—there’s of that,” Sikes, impatiently; and over his friend, he a in his ear: at which Mr. Crackit laughed immensely, and Oliver with a long of astonishment.
“Now,” said Sikes, as he his seat, “if you’ll give us something to eat and drink while we’re waiting, you’ll put some in us; or in me, at all events. Sit by the fire, younker, and yourself; for you’ll have to go out with us again to-night, though not very off.”
Oliver looked at Sikes, in mute and wonder; and a to the fire, sat with his upon his hands, where he was, or what was around him.
“Here,” said Toby, as the Jew some of food, and a bottle upon the table, “Success to the crack!” He rose to the toast; and, his empty pipe in a corner, to the table, a with spirits, and off its contents. Mr. Sikes did the same.
“A for the boy,” said Toby, half-filling a wine-glass. “Down with it, innocence.”
“Indeed,” said Oliver, looking up into the man’s face; “indeed, I—”
“Down with it!” Toby. “Do you think I don’t know what’s good for you? Tell him to drink it, Bill.”
“He had better!” said Sikes his hand upon his pocket. “Burn my body, if he isn’t more trouble than a whole family of Dodgers. Drink it, you imp; drink it!”
Frightened by the of the two men, Oliver the of the glass, and into a fit of coughing: which Toby Crackit and Barney, and a from the Mr. Sikes.
This done, and Sikes having satisfied his (Oliver eat nothing but a small of which they him swallow), the two men themselves on chairs for a nap. Oliver his by the fire; Barney in a blanket, himself on the floor: close the fender.
They slept, or appeared to sleep, for some time; nobody but Barney, who rose once or twice to on the fire. Oliver into a doze: himself along the lanes, or about the dark churchyard, or some one or other of the of the past day: when he was by Toby Crackit jumping up and it was half-past one.
In an instant, the other two were on their legs, and all were in preparation. Sikes and his their necks and in large dark shawls, and on their great-coats; Barney, opening a cupboard, articles, which he into the pockets.
“Barkers for me, Barney,” said Toby Crackit.
“Here they are,” Barney, producing a pair of pistols. “You them yourself.”
“All right!” Toby, them away. “The persuaders?”
“I’ve got ’em,” Sikes.
“Crape, keys, centre-bits, darkies—nothing forgotten?” Toby: a small to a the skirt of his coat.
“All right,” his companion. “Bring them of timber, Barney. That’s the time of day.”
With these words, he took a thick from Barney’s hands, who, having delivered another to Toby, himself in on Oliver’s cape.
“Now then!” said Sikes, out his hand.
Oliver: who was by the exercise, and the air, and the drink which had been upon him: put his hand into that which Sikes for the purpose.
“Take his other hand, Toby,” said Sikes. “Look out, Barney.”
The man to the door, and returned to that all was quiet. The two with Oliver them. Barney, having all fast, rolled himself up as before, and was soon asleep again.
It was now dark. The was much than it had been in the early part of the night; and the was so damp, that, although no rain fell, Oliver’s and eyebrows, a minutes after the house, had with the half-frozen that was about. They the bridge, and on the lights which he had before. They were at no great off; and, as they walked briskly, they soon at Chertsey.
“Slap through the town,” Sikes; “there’ll be nobody in the way, to-night, to see us.”
Toby acquiesced; and they through the main of the little town, which at that late hour was deserted. A light at from some bed-room window; and the barking of dogs occasionally the of the night. But there was nobody abroad. They had the town, as the church-bell two.
Quickening their pace, they up a road upon the left hand. After walking about a of a mile, they stopped a house by a wall: to the top of which, Toby Crackit, to take breath, in a twinkling.
“The boy next,” said Toby. “Hoist him up; I’ll catch of him.”
Before Oliver had time to look round, Sikes had him under the arms; and in three or four he and Toby were on the on the other side. Sikes directly. And they the house.
And now, for the time, Oliver, well-nigh with and terror, saw that and robbery, if not murder, were the objects of the expedition. He his hands together, and a of horror. A came his eyes; the cold upon his face; his failed him; and he upon his knees.
“Get up!” Sikes, with rage, and the pistol from his pocket; “Get up, or I’ll your upon the grass.”
“Oh! for God’s let me go!” Oliver; “let me away and die in the fields. I will come near London; never, never! Oh! pray have on me, and do not make me steal. For the love of all the Angels that in Heaven, have upon me!”
The man to this was made, a oath, and had the pistol, when Toby, it from his grasp, his hand upon the boy’s mouth, and him to the house.
“Hush!” the man; “it won’t answer here. Say another word, and I’ll do your myself with a on the head. That makes no noise, and is as certain, and more genteel. Here, Bill, the open. He’s game now, I’ll engage. I’ve older hands of his age took the same way, for a minute or two, on a cold night.”
Sikes, upon Fagin’s for sending Oliver on such an errand, the vigorously, but with little noise. After some delay, and some from Toby, the to which he had referred, open on its hinges.
It was a little window, about five and a above the ground, at the of the house: which to a scullery, or small brewing-place, at the end of the passage. The was so small, that the had not it while to it more securely; but it was large to admit a boy of Oliver’s size, nevertheless. A very of Mr. Sike’s art, to overcome the of the lattice; and it soon wide open also.
“Now listen, you limb,” Sikes, a dark from his pocket, and the full on Oliver’s face; “I’m a going to put you through there. Take this light; go up the steps you, and along the little hall, to the door; it, and let us in.”
“There’s a at the top, you won’t be able to reach,” Toby. “Stand upon one of the chairs. There are three there, Bill, with a large and gold on ’em: which is the old lady’s arms.”
“Keep quiet, can’t you?” Sikes, with a look. “The room-door is open, is it?”
“Wide,” Toby, after in to satisfy himself. “The game of that is, that they always it open with a catch, so that the dog, who’s got a in here, may walk up and the passage when he wakeful. Ha! ha! Barney ’ticed him away to-night. So neat!”
Although Mr. Crackit spoke in a whisper, and laughed without noise, Sikes him to be silent, and to to work. Toby complied, by producing his lantern, and it on the ground; then by himself with his against the the window, and his hands upon his knees, so as to make a step of his back. This was no sooner done, than Sikes, upon him, put Oliver through the window with his first; and, without of his collar, planted him safely on the inside.
“Take this lantern,” said Sikes, looking into the room. “You see the stairs you?”
Oliver, more than alive, out, “Yes.” Sikes, pointing to the street-door with the pistol-barrel, him to take notice that he was all the way; and that if he faltered, he would that instant.
“It’s done in a minute,” said Sikes, in the same low whisper. “Directly I go of you, do your work. Hark!”
“What’s that?” the other man.
They intently.
“Nothing,” said Sikes, his of Oliver. “Now!”
In the time he had had to his senses, the boy had that, he died in the attempt or not, he would make one to from the hall, and the family. Filled with this idea, he at once, but stealthily.
“Come back!” Sikes aloud. “Back! back!”
Scared by the of the of the place, and by a loud which it, Oliver let his fall, and not to or fly.
The was repeated—a light appeared—a of two half-dressed men at the top of the stairs his eyes—a flash—a loud noise—a smoke—a crash somewhere, but where he not,—and he back.
Sikes had for an instant; but he was up again, and had him by the the had away. He his own pistol after the men, who were already retreating; and the boy up.
“Clasp your arm tighter,” said Sikes, as he him through the window. “Give me a here. They’ve him. Quick! How the boy bleeds!”
Then came the loud of a bell, with the noise of fire-arms, and the of men, and the of being over ground at a pace. And then, the in the distance; and a cold over the boy’s heart; and he saw or no more.
