Oliver Twist
and chuckled as if to show that he knew he would still be
very glad to get away if he could.
‘I suppose,’ said the Jew, fixing his eyes on Oliver, ‘you
want to know what you’re going to Bill’s for—-eh, my
dear?’
Oliver coloured, involuntarily, to find that the old thief
had been reading his thoughts; but boldly said, Yes, he did
want to know.
‘Why, do you think?’ inquired Fagin, parrying the ques-
tion.
‘Indeed I don’t know, sir,’ replied Oliver.
‘Bah!’ said the Jew, turning away with a disappointed
countenance from a close perusal of the boy’s face. ‘Wait till
Bill tells you, then.’
The Jew seemed much vexed by Oliver’s not expressing
any greater curiosity on the subject; but the truth is, that,
although Oliver felt very anxious, he was too much con-
fused by the earnest cunning of Fagin’s looks, and his own
speculations, to make any further inquiries just then. He
had no other opportunity: for the Jew remained very surly
and silent till night: when he prepared to go abroad.
‘You may burn a candle,’ said the Jew, putting one upon
the table. ‘And here’s a book for you to read, till they come
to fetch you. Good-night!’
‘Good-night!’ replied Oliver, softly.
The Jew walked to the door: looking over his shoulder
at the boy as he went. Suddenly stopping, he called him by
his name.
Oliver looked up; the Jew, pointing to the candle, mo-