Oliver Twist Capitlu XXII

CHAPTER XXII

THE BURGLARY

'Hallo!' cried a loud, hoarse voice, as soon as they set foot in the passage.

'Don't make such a row,' said Sikes, bolting the door. 'Show a glim, Toby.'

'Aha! my pal!' cried the same voice. 'A glim, Barney, a glim!

Show the gentleman in, Barney; wake up first, if convenient.'

The speaker appeared to throw a boot-jack, or some such article, at the person he

addressed, to rouse him from his slumbers: for the noise of a wooden body, falling

violently, was heard; and then an indistinct muttering, as of a man between sleep and

awake.

'Do you hear?' cried the same voice. 'There's Bill Sikes in the passage with nobody to

do the civil to him; and you sleeping there, as if you took laudanum with your meals,

and nothing stronger. Are you any fresher now, or do you want the iron candlestick to

wake you thoroughly?'

A pair of slipshod feet shuffled, hastily, across the bare floor of the room, as this

interrogatory was put; and there issued, from a door on the right hand; first, a feeble

candle: and next, the form of the same individual who has been heretofore described as

labouring under the infirmity of speaking through his nose, and officiating as waiter at

the public-house on Saffron Hill.

'Bister Sikes!' exclaimed Barney, with real or counterfeit joy;

'cub id, sir; cub id.'

'Here! you get on first,' said Sikes, putting Oliver in front of him. 'Quicker! or I shall

tread upon your heels.'

Muttering a curse upon his tardiness, Sikes pushed Oliver before him; and they entered

a low dark room with a smoky fire, two or three broken chairs, a table, and a very old

couch: on which, with his legs much higher than his head, a man was reposing at full

length, smoking a long clay pipe. He was dressed in a smartly-cut snuff-coloured coat,

with large brass buttons; an orange neckerchief; a coarse, staring, shawl-pattern

waistcoat; and drab breeches. Mr. Crackit (for he it was) had no very great quantity of

hair, either upon his head or face; but what he had, was of a reddish dye, and tortured

into long corkscrew curls, through which he occasionally thrust some very dirty fingers,

ornamented with large common rings. He was a trifle above the middle size, and

apparently rather weak in the legs; but this circumstance by no means detracted from his

own admiration of his top-boots, which he contemplated, in their elevated situation,

with lively satisfaction.

'Bill, my boy!' said this figure, turning his head towards the door, 'I'm glad to see you. I

was almost afraid you'd given it up: in which case I should have made a personal

wentur. Hallo!'

Uttering this exclamation in a tone of great surprise, as his eyes rested on Oliver, Mr.

Toby Crackit brought himself into a sitting posture, and demanded who that was.

'The boy. Only the boy!' replied Sikes, drawing a chair towards the fire.

'Wud of Bister Fagid's lads,' exclaimed Barney, with a grin.

'Fagin's, eh!' exclaimed Toby, looking at Oliver. 'Wot an inwalable boy that'll make, for

the old ladies' pockets in chapels! His mug is a fortin' to him.'

'There--there's enough of that,' interposed Sikes, impatiently; and stooping over his

recumbant friend, he whispered a few words in his ear: at which Mr. Crackit laughed

immensely, and honoured Oliver with a long stare of astonishment.

'Now,' said Sikes, as he resumed his seat, 'if you'll give us something to eat and drink

while we're waiting, you'll put some heart in us; or in me, at all events. Sit down by the

fire, younker, and rest yourself; for you'll have to go out with us again to-night, though

not very far off.'

Oliver looked at Sikes, in mute and timid wonder; and drawing a stool to the fire, sat

with his aching head upon his hands, scarecely knowing where he was, or what was

passing around him.

'Here,' said Toby, as the young Jew placed some fragments of food, and a bottle upon

the table, 'Success to the crack!' He rose to honour the toast; and, carefully depositing

his empty pipe in a corner, advanced to the table, filled a glass with spirits, and drank

off its contents. Mr. Sikes did the same.

'A drain for the boy,' said Toby, half-filling a wine-glass.

'Down with it, innocence.'

'Indeed,' said Oliver, looking piteously up into the man's face;

'indeed, I--'

'Down with it!' echoed Toby. 'Do you think I don't know what's good for you? Tell him

to drink it, Bill.'

'He had better!' said Sikes clapping his hand upon his pocket. 'Burn my body, if he isn't

more trouble than a whole family of Dodgers. Drink it, you perwerse imp; drink it!'

Frightened by the menacing gestures of the two men, Oliver hastily swallowed the

contents of the glass, and immediately fell into a violent fit of coughing: which

delighted Toby Crackit and Barney, and even drew a smile from the surly Mr. Sikes.

This done, and Sikes having satisfied his appetite (Oliver could eat nothing but a small

crust of bread which they made him swallow), the two men laid themselves down on

chairs for a short nap. Oliver retained his stool by the fire; Barney wrapped in a

blanket, stretched himself on the floor: close outside the fender.

They slept, or appeared to sleep, for some time; nobody stirring but Barney, who rose

once or twice to throw coals on the fire. Oliver fell into a heavy doze: imagining

himself straying along the gloomy lanes, or wandering about the dark churchyard, or

retracing some one or other of the scenes of the past day: when he was roused by Toby

Crackit jumping up and declaring it was half-past one.

In an instant, the other two were on their legs, and all were actively engaged in busy

preparation. Sikes and his companion enveloped their necks and chins in large dark

shawls, and drew on their great-coats; Barney, opening a cupboard, brought forth

several articles, which he hastily crammed into the pockets.

'Barkers for me, Barney,' said Toby Crackit.

'Here they are,' replied Barney, producing a pair of pistols.

'You loaded them yourself.'

'All right!' replied Toby, stowing them away. 'The persuaders?'

'I've got 'em,' replied Sikes.

'Crape, keys, centre-bits, darkies--nothing forgotten?' inquired Toby: fastening a small

crowbar to a loop inside the skirt of his coat.

'All right,' rejoined his companion. 'Bring them bits of timber, Barney. That's the time

of day.'

With these words, he took a thick stick from Barney's hands, who, having delivered

another to Toby, busied himself in fastening on Oliver's cape.

'Now then!' said Sikes, holding out his hand.

Oliver: who was completely stupified by the unwonted exercise, and the air, and the

drink which had been forced upon him: put his hand mechanically into that which Sikes

extended for the purpose.

'Take his other hand, Toby,' said Sikes. 'Look out, Barney.'

The man went to the door, and returned to announce that all was quiet. The two robbers

issued forth with Oliver between them. Barney, having made all fast, rolled himself up

as before, and was soon asleep again.

It was now intensely dark. The fog was much heavier than it had been in the early part

of the night; and the atmosphere was so damp, that, although no rain fell, Oliver's hair

and eyebrows, within a few minutes after leaving the house, had become stiff with the

half-frozen moisture that was floating about. They crossed the bridge, and kept on

towards the lights which he had seen before. They were at no great distance off; and, as

they walked pretty briskly, they soon arrived at Chertsey.

'Slap through the town,' whispered Sikes; 'there'll be nobody in the way, to-night, to see

us.'

Toby acquiesced; and they hurried through the main street of the little town, which at

that late hour was wholly deserted. A dim light shone at intervals from some bed-room

window; and the hoarse barking of dogs occasionally broke the silence of the night. But

there was nobody abroad. They had cleared the town, as the church-bell struck two.

Quickening their pace, they turned up a road upon the left hand. After walking about a

quarter of a mile, they stopped before a detached house surrounded by a wall: to the top

of which, Toby Crackit, scarcely pausing to take breath, climbed in a twinkling.

'The boy next,' said Toby. 'Hoist him up; I'll catch hold of him.'

Before Oliver had time to look round, Sikes had caught him under the arms; and in three

or four seconds he and Toby were lying on the grass on the other side. Sikes followed

directly. And they stole cautiously towards the house.

And now, for the first time, Oliver, well-nigh mad with grief and terror, saw that

housebreaking and robbery, if not murder, were the objects of the expedition. He

clasped his hands together, and involuntarily uttered a subdued exclamation of horror.

A mist came before his eyes; the cold sweat stood upon his ashy face; his limbs failed

him; and he sank upon his knees.

'Get up!' murmured Sikes, trembling with rage, and drawing the pistol from his pocket;

'Get up, or I'll strew your brains upon the grass.'

'Oh! for God's sake let me go!' cried Oliver; 'let me run away and die in the fields. I will

never come near London; never, never! Oh! pray have mercy on me, and do not make

me steal. For the love of all the bright Angels that rest in Heaven, have mercy upon

me!'

The man to whom this appeal was made, swore a dreadful oath, and had cocked the

pistol, when Toby, striking it from his grasp, placed his hand upon the boy's mouth, and

dragged him to the house.

'Hush!' cried the man; 'it won't answer here. Say another word, and I'll do your business

myself with a crack on the head. That makes no noise, and is quite as certain, and more

genteel. Here, Bill, wrench the shutter open. He's game enough now, I'll engage. I've

seen older hands of his age took the same way, for a minute or two, on a cold night.'

Sikes, invoking terrific imprecations upon Fagin's head for sending Oliver on such an

errand, plied the crowbar vigorously, but with little noise. After some delay, and some

assistance from Toby, the shutter to which he had referred, swung open on its hinges.

It was a little lattice window, about five feet and a half above the ground, at the back of

the house: which belonged to a scullery, or small brewing-place, at the end of the

passage. The aperture was so small, that the inmates had probably not thought it worth

while to defend it more securely; but it was large enough to admit a boy of Oliver's size,

nevertheless. A very brief exercise of Mr. Sike's art, sufficed to overcome the fastening

of the lattice; and it soon stood wide open also.

'Now listen, you young limb,' whispered Sikes, drawing a dark lantern from his pocket,

and throwing the glare full on Oliver's face; 'I'm a going to put you through there. Take

this light; go softly up the steps straight afore you, and along the little hall, to the street

door; unfasten it, and let us in.'

'There's a bolt at the top, you won't be able to reach,' interposed Toby. 'Stand upon one

of the hall chairs. There are three there, Bill, with a jolly large blue unicorn and gold

pitchfork on 'em: which is the old lady's arms.'

'Keep quiet, can't you?' replied Sikes, with a threatening look.

'The room-door is open, is it?'

'Wide,' repied Toby, after peeping in to satisfy himself. 'The game of that is, that they

always leave it open with a catch, so that the dog, who's got a bed in here, may walk up

and down the passage when he feels wakeful. Ha! ha! Barney 'ticed him away to-night.

So neat!'

Although Mr. Crackit spoke in a scarcely audible whisper, and laughed without noise,

Sikes imperiously commanded him to be silent, and to get to work. Toby complied, by

first producing his lantern, and placing it on the ground; then by planting himself firmly

with his head against the wall beneath the window, and his hands upon his knees, so as

to make a step of his back. This was no sooner done, than Sikes, mounting upon him,

put Oiver gently through the window with his feet first; and, without leaving hold of his

collar, planted him safely on the floor inside.

'Take this lantern,' said Sikes, looking into the room. 'You see the stairs afore you?'

Oliver, more dead than alive, gasped out, 'Yes.' Sikes, pointing to the street-door with

the pistol-barrel, briefly advised him to take notice that he was within shot all the way;

and that if he faltered, he would fall dead that instant.

'It's done in a minute,' said Sikes, in the same low whisper.

'Directly I leave go of you, do your work. Hark!'

'What's that?' whispered the other man.

They listened intently.

'Nothing,' said Sikes, releasing his hold of Oliver. 'Now!'

In the short time he had had to collect his senses, the boy had firmly resolved that,

whether he died in the attempt or not, he would make one effort to dart upstairs from the

hall, and alarm the family. Filled with this idea, he advanced at once, but stealthiy.

'Come back!' suddenly cried Sikes aloud. 'Back! back!'

Scared by the sudden breaking of the dead stillness of the place, and by a loud cry

which followed it, Oliver let his lantern fall, and knew not whether to advance or fly.

The cry was repeated--a light appeared--a vision of two terrified half-dressed men at the

top of the stairs swam before his eyes--a flash--a loud noise--a smoke--a crash

somewhere, but where he knew not,--and he staggered back.

Sikes had disappeared for an instant; but he was up again, and had him by the collar

before the smoke had cleared away. He fired his own pistol after the men, who were

already retreating; and dragged the boy up.

'Clasp your arm tighter,' said Sikes, as he drew him through the window. 'Give me a

shawl here. They've hit him. Quick! How the boy bleeds!'

Then came the loud ringing of a bell, mingled with the noise of fire-arms, and the

shouts of men, and the sensation of being carried over uneven ground at a rapid pace.

And then, the noises grew confused in the distance; and a cold deadly feeling crept over

the boy's heart; and he saw or heard no more.