Chapter 26 Chapter Twenty-Five

(In this chapter the biography returns to Mr. Fagin and his companions.) When these things happened in the workhouse of a certain town, Mr. Fagin was sitting in the lair from which Oliver was taken by the girl Nancy, with a low, smoky smile on his face. There was a portable bellows on his lap, and it seemed that he had planned to stir up the fire a long time ago, but he never thought that he would fall into deep thought.He folded his arms, put two thumbs against his chin, and stared at the rusted iron grille absent-mindedly. Smarty, Master Charlie Bates, and Mr. Kittling sat at a table behind him, and they were engaged in a game of whist, Smarty and Dummy, against Master Bates and Mr. Kittling.The gentleman who mentioned his name first seems to be very smart at all times, and now there is a subtle expression on his face. On the one hand, he is concentrating on playing cards, and on the other hand, he is staring at Mr. Kittning's hand. , just take a keen look at the cards in Mr. Kittling's hand, and subtly change his playing style according to the observation results of his neighbors.It was a cold night, and the Dodger was wearing a hat, as was his custom indoors.He carried, as usual, a clay pipe between his teeth, which he removed for a moment only when he thought it necessary to refresh himself with a drink or two from a flagon which stood on the table. A quart jug holds gin and water for everyone to enjoy.

Master Bates was also very attentive in playing, but due to his more excitable nature than his skilled companion, it can be seen that he tasted gin and water more often, and he kept laughing, which was not right. It doesn't fit a learned game of poker.Indeed, in the spirit of helping his friends, the clever ghost took the opportunity to point out to his companions more than once that such behavior was very inappropriate.Master Bates ignored most of the advice, but asked his companion to be "wise" or put his head in a sack, or return the other with clever witticisms of this kind, Mr. Chitling After listening to these witty words, I am in admiration.It is worth noting that the latter gentleman and his partner were always losing, and that, far from annoying Master Bates, this circumstance seemed to provide him with a great deal of amusement, which he had with noisy Laughed a lot and swore I'd never seen such a fun game in my life.

"Doubling again, and the game is over," said Mr. Kittling, with a long face, and took out half a crown from his waistcoat pocket. "I've never seen a fellow like you, Jack. You win it all. Me and Charlie won't do a thing." I don't know whether it was the sentence itself or the mournful look on his face that made Charlie Bates very happy. Charlie immediately let out a burst of wild laughter. The old Jew woke up from his meditation and couldn't help asking what was going on. "What's the matter, Fagin," cried Charlie, "just come and see the game. Tommy Kittning hasn't got a single point, and I'm partnering with him against Smarty and Dummy."

"Ah, ah," said Fagin, smiling, showing that he knew the trick. "A few more shots, Tom, a few more shots." "Thanks, Fagin, I won't fight any more," replied Mr. Kittling. "I've had enough. The Smarty has had his luck with no one." "Ha ha! my dear," replied the old Jew, "you'd have to be up early to win the Dodger." "Get up early!" said Charlie Bates. "If you're going to win him, you've got to put on your shoes the night before, put a telescope over each eye, and a theater-goggle between your shoulders." glasses will do."

Mr. Dakins accepted these compliments calmly, and offered to play two hands, for a shilling each, with any gentleman present, and the winner would be the first to draw a winning card.As there was no one to challenge him, it happened that his pipe was exhausted at this time, so he picked up a piece of chalk that he had made use of as a chip, and for his own amusement drew a schematic diagram of Newgate Prison on the table. Whistle harshly. "You're so boring, Tommy," said the Quickie, noticing the silence of the others, pointing to Mr. Kittling, and asking, after a pause, "Fagin, what do you think he's thinking? "

"How can I guess, my dear?" replied the old Jew, beating the bellows vigorously, and looking back. "Probably wondering how much money he lost, perhaps, or thinking of the country house he just left, eh? Ha ha! Isn't it, my dear?" "That's not the case at all," Mr. Kitton was about to say, but the Smarty interrupted the subject by saying first. "What do you say he was thinking, Charlie?" "I say," said Master Bates, grinning, "he's very sweet to Bette. Look how red he is. Oh, my God. Now there's a good show. Tom, let's see Kittling is lovesick. Well, Fagin, Fagin. I'm dying of laughter."

Thinking of Mr. Kittling being a victim of love, Master Bates was so delighted that he leaned back on the chair. He lost his balance with too much force and fell headlong on the floor. He was lying upright on the ground (he was not disappointed by the accident), sat down again until he could no longer laugh, and started laughing again. "Leave him alone, my dear," said the old Jew, winking at Mr. Dakins, and giving Master Bates a reprimanding blow with the bellows nozzle. "Bette's a good girl. You just chase, Tom, you just chase." "What I want to say is, Fagin," replied Mr. Chitling, blushing, "that it's none of your business."

"Don't worry," replied Fagin. "Charlie's gossip, don't mind him, my dear, don't mind him. Bette's a good girl. Do what she wants you to do, Tom, and you'll make a fortune." of." "I'm just what she wants me to do. If I hadn't listened to her, I wouldn't have been locked up. It's not cheap for you in the end, isn't it, Fagin. What about six weeks? Anyway, I will go in anyway." Yes, either now or in the future, when you don't feel much about loafing outside in winter, why don't you stay in, eh, Fagin?"

"Well, that's it, my dear," answered the old Jew. "You don't care if you go in again, Tom, do you?" asked the Dodger, with a wink at Charlie and Fagin, "as long as Bette doesn't say anything?" "I just mean to say I don't care," replied Tom indignantly. "All right, all right. Well, if any of you dare say that, I should like to know, eh, Fagin?" "Nobody dares, my dear," answered the old Jew, "Nobody, Tom. I don't know of any of them but you, none of them, my dear." "If I had confessed her, I would have been able to get away with it, wouldn't I, Fagin?" said the poor taker, furiously, in hot pursuit. "I've only got to say a word and it's over, don't I, Fagin?"

"Yes, that's right, my dear," answered the old Jew. "But I didn't bring it up, did I, Fagin?" asked Tom's question after question. "No, no, absolutely not," replied the old Jew, "you've got the guts to never miss a word, just a little rash, my dear." "Perhaps," replied Tom, looking over his shoulder; "if so, what's the fun in that, eh, Fagin?" The old Jew heard that Mr. Kittling was quite angry, and hastened to assure him that no one was laughing. In order to prove that everyone in the room was serious, he asked the culprit, Master Bates, if that was the case.Unfortunately, however, Charlie had just begun to answer, saying that he had never been so serious in his life, and couldn't help laughing out loud.Without further ado, the humiliated Mr. Kittling rushed over and punched the perpetrator.Master Bates, who was always skilful at dodging blows, ducked away, and so well timed, that the blow landed on the chest of the jolly old gentleman, sending him staggering back to the wall. Standing on the side, panting for breath, Mr. Kittling looked at him distraught.

"Listen," cried the Dodger at that moment, "I hear the ringing of the bell." Seizing the candle, he went upstairs lightly. Just when this group of people were wondering what was going on, the bell rang again impatiently.After a while, the Dodger returned, and whispered something mysteriously to Fagin. "Oh," cried the old Jew, "alone?" The Dodger nodded affirmatively, shielding the candle flame with his hand, and silently gave Charlie Bates a hint that he'd better stop joking just now.The Dodger did his duty as a friend, and looked intently into the old Jew's face, waiting for orders. The old man bit his sallow finger and thought for a few seconds, his face twitched violently, as if he was worried about something, afraid of knowing the worst.Finally, he finally raised his head. "Where is he?" he asked. The clever ghost pointed to the upstairs, and made a movement to leave the room. "Very well," replied Fagin to the silent inquiry. "Take him down. Hush! Be quiet, Charlie. Be gentle, Tom. Get out of the way, out of the way." Charlie Bates and his new adversary obediently obeyed the brief instructions addressed to them.There was not a sound from all around to indicate where they were going, and the Dodger came downstairs with a candle in his hand, followed by a man in a coarse smock.The man glanced around anxiously, and tore off the large shawl that covered the lower half of his face, revealing the face of a playboy Toby Crackett—very haggard, without washing for an unknown number of days, Didn't shave. "How are you, Fagin?" said the honorable gentleman, nodding to the old Jew. "Smart boy, slip this scarf into my hat, so I'll know where to find it when I shave my head, yes. You'll be a bright young thug, much better than this old jerk. " As he spoke, he lifted up his smock, tied it around his waist, pulled a chair by the fire, and sat down with his legs on the warming rack. "Look, Fagin," said he, pointing grumpily at his riding-boots, "not a single drop of Dye Martin has been touched, nor wiped once, since the time you know, my God. Say, Don't look at me like that. Don't worry, I don't have enough to eat and drink, and I don't have the energy to talk to you about serious things. Bring some food, and we'll make up for what we haven't bought in three days. " ① Refers to the shoe polish produced by the famous Day Martin Company in London.Dickens worked for the company as a boy. The old Jew made a sign to the Dodger to put all the edible things on the table, and sat down opposite the robber, and waited for him to speak. From the looks of it, Toby had no intention of speaking right away.At first, the old Jew held his breath and observed his expression, as if he wanted to see what news he had brought from his expression, but to no avail.Although Toby looked exhausted, he still maintained the usual contented look between his brows. It was hopeless. Through the grease, dirt, beard and sideburns, it was still the playboy Toby Crackett. A smug smirk.The old Jew stood up anxiously, staring at Toby as he put the food into his mouth little by little, while pacing up and down the room in unbearable excitement.This trick didn't work at all either.Toby put on a show of no one else, and ate until he couldn't eat any more. Then he told the smart ghost to go out, closed the door, mixed a glass of wine, collected himself, and was ready to speak. "First, Fagin," said Toby. "Yes, yes," interrupted the old Jew, shifting his chair. Mr. Crackett paused, took a sip of his drink, boasted how good the gin and water was, and then put his feet up on the fire so that his boots were about level with his eyes, and spoke nonchalantly. picked up the topic. "First, Fagin," said the veteran burglar, "what's the matter with Bill?" "Ah!" The old Jew screamed and jumped up from his seat. "Well, don't you mean to say—" Toby's face turned pale as he spoke. "Want to talk!" cried Fagin, stamping the ground furiously. "Where did they go? Sikes and the boy. Where did they go? Where did they go?" "Business screwed up," Toby said weakly. "I knew it," said the old Jew, pointing to a newspaper, pulling it out of his pocket. "anything else?" "They fired and shot the kid. The two of us carried him across the field--straight, like a crow flew--over fences, ditches, and they were still chasing. Shit. Nationwide All the people woke up, and the dogs chased after them." "Talk about that kid." "Bill had him on his back and he was running as fast as the wind. Then we stopped and put him between us with his head slumped and his body cold. The men were about to catch us. , everyone for himself, and no one wanted to go to the gallows. We broke up, and threw the little guy in a ditch, and didn't know whether he was dead or alive, that's all I knew." Fagin did not hear him any more, but with a roar, and pulling his hair with his hands, he rushed out of the room and out the door.