“Don’t be out of temper, my dear,” urged Fagin, submissively. “I have never forgot you, Bill; never once.”
“No! I’ll pound it that you han’t,” replied Sikes, with a bitter grin. “You’ve been scheming and plotting away, every hour that I have laid shivering and burning here; and Bill was to do this; and Bill was to do that; and Bill was to do it all, dirt cheap, as soon as he got well: and was quite poor enough for your work. If it hadn’t been for the girl, I might have died.”
“There now, Bill,” remonstrated Fagin, eagerly catching at the word. “If it hadn’t been for the girl! Who but poor ould Fagin was the means of your having such a handy girl about you?”
“He says true enough there!” said Nancy, coming hastily forward. “Let him be; let him be.”
Nancy’s appearance gave a new turn to the conversation; for the boys, receiving a sly wink from the wary old Jew, began to ply her with liquor: of which, however, she took very sparingly; while Fagin, assuming an unusual flow of spirits, gradually brought Mr. Sikes into a better temper, by affecting to regard his threats as a little pleasant banter; and, moreover, by laughing very heartily at one or two rough jokes, which, after repeated applications to the spirit-bottle, he condescended to make.
“It’s all very well,” said Mr. Sikes; “but I must have some blunt from you tonight.”
“I haven’t a piece of coin about me,” replied the Jew.
“Then you’ve got lots at home,” retorted Sikes; “and I must have some from there.”
“Lots!” cried Fagin, holding up his hands. “I haven’t so much as would—”
“I don’t know how much you’ve got, and I dare say you hardly know yourself, as it would take a pretty long time to count it,” said Sikes; “but I must have some tonight; and that’s flat.”