Oliver Twist. Volume 3 of 3

“They’re a good two mile off at least,” said the woman despondingly.

“Never mind whether they’re two mile off or twenty,” said Noah Claypole, for he it was; “but get up and come on, or I’ll kick yer; and so I give yer notice.”

As Noah’s red nose grew redder with anger, and as he crossed the road while speaking, as if fully prepared to put his threat into execution, the woman rose without any further remark and trudged onwards by his side.

“Where do you mean to stop for the night, Noah?” she asked, after they had walked a few hundred yards.

“How should I know?” replied Noah, whose temper had been considerably impaired by walking.

“Near, I hope,” said Charlotte.

“No, not near,” replied Mr. Claypole; “there – not near; so don’t think it.”

“Why not?”

“When I tell yer that I don’t mean to do a thing, that’s enough, without any why, or because either,” replied Mr. Claypole with dignity.

“Well, you needn’t be so cross,” said his companion.

“A pretty thing it would be, wouldn’t it, to go and stop at the very first public-house outside the town, so that Sowerberry, if he come up after us, might poke in his old nose, and have us taken back in a cart with handcuffs on,” said Mr. Claypole in a jeering tone. “No, I shall go and lose myself among the narrowest streets I can find, and not stop till we come to the very out-of-the-wayest house I can set eyes on. ’Cod, yer may thank yer stars I’ve got a head; for if we hadn’t gone at first the wrong road on purpose, and come back across country, yer’d have been locked up hard and fast a week ago, my lady, and serve yer right for being a fool.”

“I know I ain’t as cunning as you are,” replied Charlotte; “but don’t put all the blame on me, and say I should have been locked up. You would have been if I had been, any way.”

“Yer took the money from the till, yer know yer did,” said Mr. Claypole.

“I took it for you, Noah, dear,” rejoined Charlotte.

“Did I keep it?” asked Mr. Claypole.

“No; you trusted in me, and let me carry it like a dear, and so you are,” said the lady, chucking him under the chin, and drawing her arm through his.

This was indeed the case; but as it was not Mr. Claypole’s habit to repose a blind and foolish confidence in any body, it should be observed, in justice to that gentleman, that he had trusted Charlotte to this extent, in order that, if they were pursued, the money might be found on her, which would leave him an opportunity of asserting his utter innocence of any theft, and greatly facilitate his chances of escape. Of course he entered at this juncture into no explanation of his motives, and they walked on very lovingly together.

In pursuance of this cautious plan, Mr. Claypole went on without halting until he arrived at the Angel at Islington, where he wisely judged, from the crowd of passengers and number of vehicles, that London began in earnest. Just pausing to observe which appeared the most crowded streets, and consequently the most to be avoided, he crossed into Saint John’s Road, and was soon deep in the obscurity of the intricate and dirty ways which, lying between Gray’s Inn Lane and Smithfield, render that part of the town one of the lowest and worst that improvement has left in the midst of London.

Through these streets Noah Claypole walked, dragging Charlotte after him, now stepping into the kennel to embrace at a glance the whole external character of some small public-house, and now jogging on again as some fancied appearance induced him to believe it too public for his purpose. At length he stopped in front of one more humble in appearance and more dirty than any he had yet seen; and, having crossed over and surveyed it from the opposite pavement, graciously announced his intention of putting up there for the night.

“So give us the bundle,” said Noah, unstrapping it from the woman’s shoulders, and slinging it over his own; “and don’t yer speak except when yer spoken to. What’s the name of the house – t-h-r – three what?”

“Cripples,” said Charlotte.

“Three Cripples,” repeated Noah, “and a very good sign too. Now, then, keep close at my heels, and come along.” With these injunctions, he pushed the rattling door with his shoulder, and entered the house followed by his companion.

There was nobody in the bar but a young Jew, who, with his two elbows on the counter, was reading a dirty newspaper. He stared very hard at Noah, and Noah stared very hard at him.

If Noah had been attired in his charity-boy’s dress, there might have been some reason for the Jew’s opening his eyes so wide; but as he had discarded the coat and badge, and wore a short smock-frock over his leathers, there seemed no particular reason for his appearance exciting so much attention in a public-house.

“Is this the Three Cripples?” asked Noah.

“That is the dabe of this house,” replied the Jew.

“A gentleman we met on the road coming up from the country recommended us here,” said Noah, nudging Charlotte, perhaps to call her attention to this most ingenious device for attracting respect, and perhaps to warn her to betray no surprise. “We want to sleep here to-night.”

“I’b dot certaid you cad,” said Barney, who was the attendant sprite; “but I’ll idquire.”

“Show us the tap, and give us a bit of cold meat and a drop of beer while yer inquiring, will yer?” said Noah.

Barney complied by ushering them into a small back-room, and setting the required viands before them; having done which, he informed the travellers that they could be lodged that night, and left the amiable couple to their refreshment.

Now, this back-room was immediately behind the bar, and some steps lower, so that any person connected with the house, undrawing a small curtain which concealed a single pane of glass fixed in the wall of the last-named apartment, about five feet from its flooring, could not only look down upon any guests in the back-room without any great hazard of being observed (the glass being in a dark angle of the wall, between which and a large upright beam the observer had to thrust himself), but could, by applying his ear to the partition, ascertain with tolerable distinctness their subject of conversation. The landlord of the house had not withdrawn his eye from this place of espial for five minutes, and Barney had only just returned from making the communication above related, when Fagin, in the course of his evening’s business came into the bar to inquire after some of his young pupils.

“Hush!” said Barney: “stradegers id the next roob.”

“Strangers!” repeated the old man in a whisper.

“Ah! ad rub uds too,” added Barney. “Frob the cuttry, but subthig in your way, or I’b bistaked.”

Fagin appeared to receive this communication with great interest, and, mounting on a stool, cautiously applied his eye to the pane of glass, from which secret post he could see Mr. Claypole taking cold beef from the dish and porter from the pot, and administering homœopathic doses of both to Charlotte, who sat patiently by, eating and drinking at his pleasure.

“Aha!” whispered the Jew, looking round to Barney, “I like the fellow’s looks. He’d be of use to us; he knows how to train the girl already. Don’t make as much noise as a mouse, my dear, and let me hear ’em talk – let me hear ’em.”

The Jew again applied his eye to the glass, and turning his ear to the partition, listened attentively, with a subtle and eager look upon his face that might have appertained to some old goblin.

“So I mean to be a gentleman,” said Mr. Claypole, kicking out his legs, and continuing a conversation, the commencement of which Fagin had arrived too late to hear. “No more jolly old coffins, Charlotte, but a gentleman’s life for me; and, if yer like, yer shall be a lady.”

“I should like that well enough, dear,” replied Charlotte; “but tills ain’t to be emptied every day, and people to get clear off after it.”

“Tills be blowed!” said Mr. Claypole; “there’s more things besides tills to be emptied.”

“What do you mean?” asked his companion.

“Pockets, women’s ridicules, houses, mail-coaches, banks,” said Mr. Claypole, rising with the porter.

“But you can’t do all that, dear,” said Charlotte.

“I shall look out to get into company with them as can,” replied Noah. “They’ll be able to make us useful some way or another. Why, you yourself are worth fifty women; I never see such a precious sly and deceitful creetur as yer can be when I let yer.”

“Lor, how nice it is to hear you say so!” exclaimed Charlotte, imprinting a kiss upon his ugly face.

“There, that’ll do: don’t yer be too affectionate, in case I’m cross with yer,” said Noah, disengaging himself with great gravity. “I should like to be the captain of some band, and have the whopping of ’em, and follering ’em about, unbeknown to themselves. That would suit me, if there was good profit; and if we could only get in with some gentlemen of this sort, I say it would be cheap at that twenty-pound note you’ve got, – especially as we don’t very well know how to get rid of it ourselves.”

After expressing this opinion, Mr. Claypole looked into the porter-pot with an aspect of deep wisdom, and having well shaken its contents, nodded condescendingly to Charlotte, and took a draught, wherewith he appeared greatly refreshed. He was meditating another, when the sudden opening of the door and appearance of a stranger interrupted him.

The stranger was Mr. Fagin, and very amiable he looked, and a very low bow he made as he advanced, and, setting himself down at the nearest table, ordered something to drink of the grinning Barney.

“A pleasant night, sir, but cool for the time of year,” said Fagin, rubbing his hands. “From the country, I see, sir?”

“How do yer see that?” asked Noah Claypole.