It was a cold, damp, and windy night when Fagin emerged from his den. He buttoned his heavy coat tightly around his frail, shrivelled body and pulled the collar up over his ears, completely hiding the lower half of his face. He paused on the doorstep as the door was locked and chained behind him. After listening until the retreating footsteps of the boys were no longer audible, he slunk down the street as quickly as he could.
The house where Oliver was being held was located in the neighborhood of Whitechapel. Fagin stopped for a moment at the corner of the street and, after glancing suspiciously around, crossed the road and headed toward Spitalfields.
Thick mud covered the stones, and a black mist hung over the streets. The rain fell steadily, making everything feel cold and clammy to the touch. It seemed like exactly the sort of night that suited a creature like Fagin. As he glided stealthily along, creeping beneath the shelter of walls and doorways, the hideous old man resembled a loathsome reptile born in the slime and darkness through which he moved, crawling out at night in search of some foul meal.
He continued through many winding and narrow paths until he reached Bethnal Green. Then, turning suddenly to the left, he became lost in a maze of the mean, dirty streets that are common in that crowded quarter of the city.
Fagin was clearly familiar with the area, for he was not bothered by the darkness or the complicated route. He hurried through several alleys and finally turned into a street lit by only a single lamp at the far end. He knocked at the door of one of the houses and, after whispering a few words to the person who opened it, walked upstairs.
A dog growled as Fagin touched the handle of a room door, and a man’s voice demanded to know who was there.
"Only me, Bill; only me, my dear," said Fagin, looking inside.
"Bring your body in then," said Sikes. "Lie down, you stupid brute! Don't you recognize the devil even when he’s wearing a great-coat?"
Apparently, the dog had been deceived by Fagin's outer garment; as the old man unbuttoned it and threw it over the back of a chair, the animal retired to its corner, wagging its tail to show it was as satisfied as a dog of its nature could be.
"Well!" said Sikes.
"Well, my dear," replied Fagin. "Ah! Nancy."
The latter greeting was spoken with a hint of embarrassment, as if Fagin were unsure how she would receive him. Fagin and his young friend had not met since she had interfered on Oliver’s behalf. However, any doubts were quickly removed by her behavior. She moved her feet from the fireplace, pushed back her chair, and told Fagin to sit down, remarking that it was an incredibly cold night.
"It is cold, Nancy dear," said Fagin, warming his skinny hands over the fire. "The wind seems to go right through you," he added, touching his side.
"It must be a sharp wind if it manages to find its way through your heart," remarked Mr. Sikes. "Give him something to drink, Nancy. Hurry up! It’s enough to make a man feel ill just seeing his lean old frame shivering like an ugly ghost."
Nancy quickly brought a bottle from a cupboard filled with various liquids. Sikes poured a glass of brandy and ordered Fagin to drink it.
"That's quite enough, thank you, Bill," replied Fagin, barely touching the glass to his lips before putting it down.
"What! Are you afraid we’ll get the better of you?" Sikes asked, staring intensely at him. With a grunt of contempt, Sikes seized the glass and threw the remaining brandy into the ashes before refilling it for himself.
Fagin glanced around the room in the restless, suspicious manner that was habitual to him. It was a poorly furnished apartment. There was nothing to suggest the occupant was anything other than a common laborer, except for two or three heavy clubs in a corner and a "life-preserver"—a type of bludgeon—hanging over the mantelpiece.
"There," said Sikes, smacking his lips. "Now I'm ready."
"For business?" inquired Fagin.
"For business," replied Sikes. "So say what you have to say."
"About the house at Chertsey, Bill?" Fagin asked, drawing his chair forward and speaking in a very low voice.
"Yes. What about it?"
"Ah! You know what I mean, my dear," said Fagin. "He knows what I mean, Nancy; doesn't he?"
"No, he doesn't," sneered Sikes. "Or rather, he won't, which is the same thing. Speak plainly and call things by their right names. Don’t sit there winking and hinting as if you weren't the one who suggested the robbery in the first place. What do you mean?"
"Hush, Bill, hush!" said Fagin, trying to calm Sikes’s sudden anger. "Someone will hear us, my dear."
"Let them hear!" Sikes shouted, though he immediately lowered his voice and grew calmer upon reflection.
"There, there," said Fagin coaxingly. "I was only being cautious. Now, about that house at Chertsey; when is it to be done, Bill? There is such valuable silver there, my dear!" Fagin rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation.
"It isn't to be done at all," replied Sikes coldly.
"Not at all?" echoed Fagin, leaning back in shock.
"No," rejoined Sikes. "At least, it can't be an 'inside job' as we expected."
"Then it hasn't been handled properly," said Fagin, turning pale with anger.
"Don't tell me that!" Sikes retorted. "Toby Crackit has been hanging around the place for two weeks, and he can't get any of the servants to help us."
"Do you mean to tell me, Bill," Fagin said, softening his tone as Sikes became more heated, "that neither of the two men in the house can be bribed?"
"That’s exactly what I mean," replied Sikes. "The old lady has employed them for twenty years. Even if you offered them five hundred pounds, they wouldn't join us."
"But surely the women can be persuaded?" Fagin protested.
"Not a chance," said Sikes. "Not even by 'Flash' Toby Crackit. He says he’s worn fake whiskers and a bright waistcoat the whole time he’s been loitering there, and it’s been completely useless."
Fagin looked disappointed. After thinking for a few minutes with his chin on his chest, he sighed and said that if Toby’s report was correct, he feared the plan had failed. "And yet," the old man added, "it’s a sad thing to lose so much when we had set our hearts on it."
"It is," agreed Sikes. "Bad luck!"
A long silence followed, during which Fagin was lost in deep thought, his face twisted into an expression of pure wickedness. Sikes watched him carefully, while Nancy sat staring into the fire, appearing to ignore everything that was happening.
"Fagin," Sikes said, suddenly breaking the silence. "Is it worth an extra fifty pounds if it’s done safely from the outside?"
"Yes!" said Fagin, instantly waking from his thoughts.
"Is it a bargain?"
"Yes, my dear, yes," Fagin replied, his eyes glistening with excitement.
"Then," said Sikes, dismissing Fagin’s hand with disdain, "let it happen as soon as you like. Toby and I were over the garden wall the night before last, testing the panels of the doors and shutters. The house is barred up like a prison at night, but there’s one spot we can break into, safely and quietly."
"Which spot is that, Bill?" Fagin asked eagerly.
"Well," whispered Sikes, "as you cross the lawn—" He stopped abruptly as Nancy looked around and pointed toward Fagin’s face. "Never mind which part it is. You can't do it without me, I know; but it's best to be safe when dealing with you."
"As you like, my dear," Fagin replied. "Do you need any help besides yours and Toby’s?"
"None," said Sikes, "except for a drill and a boy. We have the first; you must find us the second."
"A boy!" exclaimed Fagin. "Oh! Then you're going through a small panel, are you?"
"Never mind what it is!" Sikes replied. "I need a boy, and he must be small. Honestly," Sikes added reflectively, "if only I had that young boy who worked for Ned the chimney-sweep! Ned kept him small on purpose and rented him out for jobs. But then the father got arrested, and the Juvenile Delinquent Society took the boy away. They taught him to read and write and made an apprentice of him. If they had enough money, we wouldn't have half a dozen boys left in the whole trade within a year!"
Fagin, who had been thinking during this speech, only caught the last sentence. "Bill!" he said, nodding toward Nancy. He signaled that he wanted her to leave the room. Sikes shrugged, thinking the precaution unnecessary, but he asked Nancy to go fetch a jug of beer anyway.
"You don't want any beer," said Nancy, remaining in her seat with her arms folded.
"I tell you I do!" Sikes insisted.
"Nonsense," she replied coolly. "Go on, Fagin. I know what you’re going to say, Bill; he needn't worry about me."
Fagin hesitated, but Sikes reassured him. "You don't mind her, do you, Fagin? You’ve known her long enough to trust her. She isn't someone who talks to the police. Are you, Nancy?"
"I should think not!" she replied, putting her elbows on the table.
Fagin still paused. "I didn't know if she might be... out of sorts, you know, as she was the other night."
At this, Nancy burst into a loud laugh and finished a glass of brandy. She shook her head defiantly and shouted a few phrases of encouragement, which seemed to reassure the men.
"Now, Fagin," Nancy laughed. "Tell Bill about Oliver!"
"Ha! You're a clever one, my dear; the sharpest girl I ever met!" said Fagin, patting her neck. "It was about Oliver I was going to speak. Ha! ha! ha!"
"What about him?" demanded Sikes.
"He's the boy for you," Fagin whispered, grinning frightfully.
"Him?" Sikes exclaimed.
"Use him, Bill," Nancy said. "I would if I were you. He might not be as experienced as the others, but that doesn't matter if he's only there to open a door. You can trust him, Bill."
"I know he’s the right one," Fagin added. "He’s been in training these last few weeks, and it’s time he began to earn his keep. Besides, the others are all too large."
"Well, he is exactly the size I need," Sikes admitted, thinking it over.
"And he will do whatever you tell him, Bill," Fagin said. "He won't have a choice—provided you frighten him enough."
"Frighten him!" Sikes echoed. "It will be no fake frightening, believe me. If he does anything strange once we start the work, he won't come back alive. Think about that before you send him!" Sikes emphasized his point by brandishing a crowbar he had pulled from under the bed.
"I've thought of everything," Fagin said energetically. "I've kept a close eye on him. Once he feels he is one of us—once his mind is filled with the idea that he is a thief—he is ours! Ours for life! It couldn't have worked out better!" Fagin hugged himself with joy.
"Ours?" Sikes muttered. "You mean yours."
"Perhaps I do, my dear," Fagin chuckled. "Mine, if you like, Bill."
"And why," asked Sikes, scowling at his friend, "do you take so much trouble for this one pale kid, when there are fifty boys sleeping in the streets every night that you could choose from?"
"Because the others are of no use to me," Fagin replied with some confusion. "Their looks give them away, and I lose them when they get into trouble. With this boy, if managed properly, I could do more than I could with twenty others. Besides, if he were to escape us again, he could ruin us. He must be in the same boat as we are. It’s enough for my power over him that he was involved in a robbery. That is all I want. This is much better than having to... dispose of the poor little boy, which would be dangerous and a waste of potential."
"When is it to be done?" Nancy asked, cutting off Sikes’s disgusted reaction to Fagin's fake concern for the boy.
"I planned it with Toby for the night after tomorrow," Sikes said grumpily.
"Good," said Fagin. "There is no moon."
"No," agreed Sikes.
"And everything is arranged for bringing back the stolen goods?" Fagin asked.
Sikes nodded. "It's all planned. Don't worry about the details. Just bring the boy here tomorrow night. I’ll be leaving an hour after dawn the following day. Keep your mouth shut and have the melting-pot ready to hide the silver; that’s all you have to do."
After more discussion, it was decided that Nancy would go to Fagin's the next evening and bring Oliver away. Fagin craftily noted that Oliver would be more willing to go with the girl who had protected him than with anyone else. It was also solemnly agreed that Oliver would be placed entirely in Sikes’s care and that Sikes could deal with him however he saw fit. Fagin would not hold Sikes responsible for any harm that might come to the boy if he caused trouble.
With the plan finalized, Sikes began to drink brandy heavily and wave the crowbar around in a dangerous manner, shouting fragments of songs. Eventually, he tried to show off his housebreaking tools, but he stumbled over the box and fell onto the floor, where he immediately fell fast asleep.
"Good-night, Nancy," said Fagin, covering his face again.
"Good-night."
Their eyes met, and Fagin studied her closely. She did not flinch; she appeared as committed to the plan as anyone. Fagin whispered good-night again and, after giving the sleeping Sikes a quiet kick while Nancy's back was turned, he felt his way downstairs.
"Always the same!" Fagin muttered to himself as he walked home. "The problem with these women is that the smallest thing can wake a long-forgotten feeling; but the best thing is that it never lasts. Ha! ha! The grown man against the child, all for a bag of gold!"
Lost in these thoughts, Fagin walked through the mud back to his gloomy house, where the Dodger was waiting impatiently.
"Is Oliver in bed? I want to speak to him," was Fagin’s first remark.
"He’s been asleep for hours," replied the Dodger, opening a door. "Here he is."
The boy was lying on a simple bed on the floor. He looked so pale from anxiety and sadness that he resembled a corpse. He looked like someone whose young spirit had only just departed for Heaven, before the harshness of the world had time to change him.
"Not now," Fagin said, turning softly away. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow."