Chapter 44 Chapter Forty-Three

(This chapter tells how the elusive Dodger got into trouble.) "So your friend is yourself, isn't it?" asked Mr. Claypole, or Porter, to Fagin, who, by agreement, moved into Mr. Fagin's the next day. residence. "My God, I thought about it last night." "Every man is his own friend, my dear," replied Fagin, with a flattering smile. "Can't find a friend anywhere like himself." "Sometimes not necessarily," Maurice Poulter replied, pretending to be very deep. "You know, some people don't fight against others, they only fight against themselves."

"Don't believe that," said Fagin. "A man can only be hard on himself because he has made too much of his friend, and either because he cares about everybody, or he doesn't care about himself. Pooh, pooh." There is no such thing in the world.” "If there is, it shouldn't be," replied Mr. Poulter. "That's right. Some magicians say three is a magic number, and others say seven. Neither, my friend, no. One is." "Ha ha!" exclaimed Mr. Poulter. "Always number one." "In a small group like ours, my dear," Fagin felt obliged to explain this point of view, "we have a general number one, which means that you cannot think of yourself as a number one. , think of me, plus all the other young people."

"Oh, hell," muttered Mr. Poulter. "You think," continued Fagin, pretending not to heed the interjection, "that we are indistinguishable from each other now, and have common interests, and this must be the case. For example, your object is to care about Number One— Just take care of yourself." "Certainly," replied Mr. Poulter, "you have a point." "That's right. You can't just care about your number one, and ignore my number one." "You mean number two?" Mr. Poulter had the virtue of self-love. "No, that's not what I meant," retorted Fagin. "I am as much to you as you are to yourself."

"I say," put in Mr. Poulter, "you're very funny, and I admire you very much, but we're not that close." "Just pondering and thinking about it," said Fagin, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his hands. "You did a very beautiful thing, just for you, I like you. But at the same time, this thing also tied a collar around your neck. It's easy to tie it on, but it's hard to take it off—" —to put it plainly, a noose." Mr. Poulter touched the scarf with his hand, as if feeling too tight for comfort, and murmured his assent in tone rather than words.

"What is a gallows?" continued Fagin. "The gallows, my dear, is a hideous signpost, whose sharp arrows have ruined so many good men's careers. Always walk on the level road, and keep far from the gallows, That's your number one purpose." "Never mind," replied Mr. Poulter, "what do you say?" "Just to let you know what I mean," said the old Jew, raising his eyebrows. "You must rely on me to do this, and you must rely on me to make this little business of mine go smoothly." .First of all, you are number one, and then I am number one. The more you value your number one, the more you should care about me. After all, let’s go back to the sentence I told you at the beginning It’s over—focusing on number one, we can all hold together, we must do this, otherwise we will have to go our separate ways.”

"That's true," replied Mr. Poulter thoughtfully. "Oh! you old trick." Mr. Fagin was pleased to see that such compliments on his talents were by no means ordinary compliments, and that he had indeed left an impression of resourcefulness on his new apprentice, and it was crucial to establish this impression at the beginning of their relationship. need.In order to deepen this necessary and useful impression, he struck while the iron was hot, introducing the scale and scope of the business in considerable detail, mixing facts and fictions together, and trying to make it suitable for his own purposes.He employs both with such mastery that Mr. Poulter's respect is evidently heightened, with a touch of salutary dread which is ideally evoked.

"It is because of this mutual trust between you and me that I can take comfort in times of great loss," said Fagin. "I lost one of my best helpers yesterday morning." "Didn't you say he was dead?" cried Mr. Poulter. "No, no," replied Fagin, "it's not that bad. It's definitely not that bad." "Oh, I think he's—" "Suspect," interposed Fagin, "yes, he is a suspect." "Extremely serious?" asked Mr. Poulter. "No," replied Fagin, "not too serious, and charged him with attempted pickpocketing. They found a silver snuff-box on him--his own, my dear, his own, and he took snuff himself." , likes to snuff. They're going to hold him till today, thinking they know whose stuff it is. Ah! He's worth fifty snuffboxes, I'd pay that to get him back. Too bad you haven't seen the dodger , my dear, it's a pity you haven't seen the Dodger."

"Well, I'll see him later, I suppose, you don't think so?" said Mr. Poulter. "I can't let it go," replied Fagin, with a sigh. "If they have no new evidence, and it's only a summary judgment, we'll have him back in six weeks or so. But if They've got new evidence, and it's going to build up. They know how smart that guy is now. He's going to get a permanent ticket, and they'll get a permanent ticket for the smart guy." "What do you mean by accumulative and perpetual tickets?" asked Mr. Poulter. "What good will it do you to speak to me like that? Why don't you speak in words I can understand?"

Fagin was in the process of translating these two mysterious words into the common language, so that Mr. Poulter would understand that, taken together, they meant "exile for life."At this moment, Master Bates came in suddenly, interrupting their conversation. Bates put his hands in his trouser pockets and twisted his face. The frown on his face was a bit funny. "It's all over, Fagin," said Charlie, when he and his new companion had made each other's acquaintance. "What did you say?" "They've found the owner of the box, and there are two or three more to identify him, and the Dodger must go out for a walk," replied Master Bates. "I'll wear mourning, Fagin, and a hat." Take, go and see him before he goes out. Think, Jack Dakins--lucky Jack--Smartman--no smart-ass--for a mediocre sneeze-box, worth two pence In the first half, he was about to go abroad. I always thought that if he was going to go abroad, it would be a gold watch with a chain and stamp. Oh, why didn't he steal a rich old gentleman's valuables? Clean up, if you want to leave, you must walk like a person of status, not like an ordinary pickpocket, it is neither decent nor disgraceful."

Master Bates, expressing deep sympathy for his unfortunate friend, sat down in the nearest chair with a look of chagrin and despondency. "Why are you nagging him that he is disgraceful and disgraceful?" cried Fagin, casting an angry look at his apprentice. "Hasn't he been the chief among you all along? Any of you can match or match him in the sense of smell. Eh?" "Not a single one," Master Bates felt a little regretful, and his voice became dry. "not even one." "Then what are you talking about?" Fei Jin was still furious, "What kind of mourning are you crying for?"

"Because this kind of thing won't be recorded—on the record, right?" Charlie couldn't hold back his annoyance, and openly contradicted his old mentor. "Because it won't be in the indictment, because people don't know half of him. How can he be in the new door list? Maybe he wasn't there at all. Oh, God, God, it's such a blow." gone." "Haha!" Fagin spread his right hand, turned to Mr. Poulter, laughed strangely, and swayed from side to side as if having a convulsion. "Look how proud they are of what they do, isn't that pretty, my dear?" Mr Poulter nodded yes.Fagin looked at the sad Charlie Bates for a few seconds, evidently satisfied, before going forward and patting the little gentleman on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Charlie," said Fagin coaxing him, "it'll come out, it will come out. Everyone will know what a clever man he is, and he'll show himself, and he won't tell the old chap, Disgraceful old man. Consider how young he is. To be sent at his age, Charlie, what a shame." "Well, it's a saving grace, yes," said Charlie, feeling a little relieved. "He'll have what he wants," continued the old Jew. "He's in that stone urn, Charlie, and ought to live like a gentleman, like a gentleman. He's got his beer every day, and his pockets." Money for him to play coin toss if he can't spend it." "No, what if he can spend it?" cried Charlie Bates. "Well, that's the money," answered the old Jew. "We're going to find a big man, Charlie, and one of the best eloquent men to defend him. He can defend himself, too, and if he likes, we'll have it in the papers." Read all of this--elusive dodgers--caused a good laugh several times--while the judge held his belly in his hands--well, Charlie, huh?" "Ha-ha!" laughed Master Bates. "That's fun, isn't it, Fagin? I say, the Dodgers are probably going to give them trouble, aren't they?" "Eighty percent?" cried Fagin. "Tenty percent—he will." "Oh, yes, he will." Charlie repeated, rubbing his hands. "I seem to see him right now." The old Jew turned his gaze to the apprentice and said loudly. "I saw it too," cried Charlie Bates, "ha ha ha! It's all in front of me, as it were, so real, Fagin, it's funny. Very, very funny. All the big men with wigs pretending Seriously, Jack Dakins talked to them as affectionately and pleasantly as if he were a judge's son, giving a speech at a banquet—ha ha ha!" To tell the truth, Master Bates' temper was indeed very different, and after Mr. Fagin's careful adjustment, the young friend was at first inclined to regard the clever man in prison as a victim, and now he thought that He was the star of a very unusual and very elegant burlesque, and he wished that the day would come when his old buddy would have a chance to show his talents. "We must find some convenient means of finding out how his day is," said Fagin. "Let me see." "Shall I go?" Charlie asked. "No no no," answered the old Jew, "are you mad, dear? Pretty mad, and you'll go in too, and there—no, Charlie, no. One loss at a time is enough." "You're not going to do it yourself, I suppose?" said Charlie, with a playful wink. "That's not quite right either," Fagin replied, shaking his head. "Then why don't you send this new fellow?" asked Master Bates, putting a hand on Noah's shoulder. "No one knew him." "Well, if he doesn't object--" said Fagin. "Against?" Charlie cut in. "What's his objection?" "There's really nothing to object to, my dear," said Fagin, turning to Mr. Poulter. "It's really nothing." "Oh, I have to say a few words about this, you know," Noah said, shaking his head again and again, and retreated to the door, showing a conscious panic. "No, no—I won't do it. It's not my department. It's not okay." "Which department did he go into, Fagin?" asked Master Bates, looking at Noah's slender figure with extreme disgust. "If there is trouble, he will run away, and when everything goes well, he will eat and drink. Is this his duty?" "Come on you," Mr. Poulter retorted, "don't allow yourself to be so disrespectful, boy, be careful to find the wrong place." Hearing this grandiose threat, Master Bates laughed loudly.It was some time before Fagin found an opportunity of extricating himself from it, and explaining to Mr. Poulter that he could not be in danger by going to the misdemeanor courts.The report of the little incident in which he participated, together with his personal appearance, have not yet been transferred to the capital, and it is very likely that no one even suspects that he has taken refuge in the Metropolis.Besides, as long as he dressed properly, a visit to the Bureau was as safe as any place in London, for that was the last place he would be expected to go voluntarily. Mr. Poulter, somewhat persuaded by these explanations, but more largely succumbed to his fear of Fagin, finally reluctantly agreed to undertake the expedition.At Fagin's orders, he immediately changed his attire, and put on a handlebar jacket, velveteen breeches, and leather leggings: all these items were readily available at the Old Jew.He also had a felt hat with several toll stamps stuck in it, and a coachman's whip.With this garb he could look like a country bumpkin from Covent Flowers, wandering around the ring, and anyone would think he was there to satisfy curiosity.He was rustic and bony, and fit the bill, and Mr. Fagin believed he was perfectly suited for the part, and there was nothing to worry about. Everything was arranged, and he memorized the physical features needed to identify the elusive Dodger, and accompanied by Master Bates, he walked through the dark and winding path to a place not far from Bomum Street.Charlie Baez introduced the exact location of the Misdemeanor Court, and explained in detail how to pass through the corridor, enter the yard, how to go upstairs to the door on the right, how to take off his hat before entering the court, and then ordered He went and returned quickly, promising to wait for him to come back at the place where the two broke up. Noah Claypole, or Maurice Poulter, the reader may call him if he pleases, did exactly as he was instructed--Master Bates knew the place so well, and the instructions were so precise that he had no need to go along the way. Asking questions, he walked into the court without encountering any obstacles.He squeezed into a dirty, stuffy room, among a crowd of mostly women.In front of the courtroom there is a platform separated by railings. On the left side against the wall is the dock for prisoners, the witness box is in the middle, and on the right is the bench where several justices of the peace sit. There was a drapery in front, so that the judgment-seat would not be in full view, and the common people were left to imagine, if they could imagine it, the full dignity of justice. There were only two women in the dock, nodding their heads to their admirers. The clerk was reading a few confessions to two policemen and a plainclothes man leaning over the table. A guard was standing there leaning against the railing of the dock, He tapped listlessly on his nose with a large key, sometimes pausing to call "Shut up" to stop the unseemly loud conversation of a group of idlers, and sometimes raising his head sternly to order a woman to "put the Get the baby out", which is often the faint cry of a malnourished baby, and the mother's handkerchief is not completely covered, thus breaking the solemnity of justice.The room stank of heat, the walls were filthy, and the ceiling was black.An old, smoke-blackened bust stood on the mantelpiece, and above the dock stood a dusty clock—the only thing that seemed to be working properly.Every living thing bears the traces of sin or poverty, or comes into contact with both, and some inanimate object looks on with a greasy grime, compared to , which is about as unpleasant. Noah eagerly searched for the witty ghost with his eyes. Although there were several women who could be the mother or sister of the famous actor, and there were more than one man who looked like his father, he couldn't see a single person who was suitable for what he got. Mr. Dakins' physiognomy illustrates.He was full of doubts and uneasy, and waited until the two women who were sentenced to prison for retrial walked out with their heads held high, and then another prisoner came out. He immediately realized that it was none other than the person he wanted to inquire about, so he left quickly calm down. It turned out to be Mr. Dakins. He dragged his shoes into the court, the sleeves of his wide coat were rolled up as usual, his left hand was in his pocket, his right hand was holding his hat, and the guard followed him in a swaying manner. The steps are simply indescribable.In the dock, he asked in a voice audible to all, why he had been placed in such a disgraceful position. "Shut up, do you hear me?" said the guard. "I'm an Englishman, aren't I?" replied the Dodger. "Where are my rights?" "It won't be long before you get your rights," retorted the guard, "and some pepper." "If I don't get my rights, we'll see what the Home Secretary says to these bastards," replied Mr. Daggins. "Well, what's the matter with this place? I'd like to ask the magistrate." My lord, take care of this little matter. Don't delay me when they read the newspaper. I have an appointment with a gentleman in the old town. I am a man of my word, and I am very punctual in serious matters. If I am not in by then There, he'll go away, and then maybe there's no way to sue for damages for delaying me. Oh, no, absolutely not!" At this moment, Ji Lingdian pretended to be determined and would soon start a lawsuit, and asked the guards to announce "the names of the two slickers sitting in the trial seat", which amused the audience. Laughing, Master Bates would only laugh if he heard him ask such a question. "Silence!" shouted the guard. "What's the matter?" asked a justice of the peace. "A case of pickpocketing a purse, my lord." "Has the kid been here before?" "He has been here many times as he is supposed to," answered the warden, "and everywhere else. I know him very well, my lord." "Oh. You know me, don't you?" cried the Sharpshooter, catching on to the word at once. "Very well. Anyway, it's defamation." There was another burst of laughter, and another "silence" sounded. "Well, where's the witness?" said the clerk. "Ah. That's true," added the Smartie. "Where are the witnesses? I want to see them." This wish was granted at once, and a policeman stepped forward, who saw the defendant in the crowd peeping into the pocket of an unknown gentleman, and indeed produced a handkerchief from the gentleman's pocket, which was A very old hand towel, pointed at his face, and then put it back calmly.For this reason, he detained the Dodger as soon as he had the opportunity to come near.The search turned up a silver snuff-box with the owner's name engraved on the lid.The gentleman has been found after checking the "Road of Famous Gentlemen". He swore on the spot that the snuff box was his. He squeezed out of the aforementioned crowd yesterday, and the snuff box disappeared in the blink of an eye.He once noticed that there was a young gentleman in the crowd who squeezed around very hard, and that little gentleman was the defendant in front of him. "Son, do you have anything to ask this witness?" said the magistrate. "I don't want to lower my status and say something to him." The clever ghost replied. "Do you have anything to say?" "Do you hear, my lord asks you what do you want to say?" the guard asked the silent clever ghost with his elbow. "I'm sorry," said the Ghost, looking up absently, "are you talking to me, buddy?" "My lord. I never saw such a complete little rascal," said the policeman with a wry smile. "You have nothing to say, boy?" "No," replied the Dodger, "not here, it's not a place for justice. Besides, my solicitor is having breakfast with the Deputy Speaker of the House of Commons this morning, and I can speak elsewhere, as can he. The same is true of many well-known acquaintances. Guan Baohui told those iron-mouthed gangs that they must not have been born at all, or that they blamed their followers for not hanging themselves on the hat nails before going out this morning. It's on my head. I'm going to—" "Okay, you can go to prison." The clerk didn't let him finish his sentence. "Take it down." "Go." said the guard. "Oh. Just go," replied the Sharpshooter, dusting his hat with the palm of his hand. "Ah (facing the judgment seat), it's useless to look at your bears, I won't spare you, not even half of it, you will pay the price, buddy. I don't have the same knowledge as you .Now you will kneel down and beg me, and I won't go. Come on, take me to prison! Take me away!" After saying the last few words, the Dodger was grabbed by his collar and led down to the yard, threatening to sue Parliament all the way, and then he approved himself, and in front of the guards, smugly Grinning straight. Noah watched him being locked in a small cell alone, and then rushed towards the place where he broke up with Master Bates with all his strength.He waited in place for a while before joining the little gentleman.Master Bates hid in a place where it was easy to move in and out, carefully observing the surroundings, until he was sure that his new friend was not being followed by any irrelevant people, and then he cautiously appeared. They both hurried off together, bearing the encouraging news for Mr. Fagin that the Smarty, living up to his master's training, was making a splendid name for himself.