Олівер Твіст

Chapter 43

           ‘Ay,thatheshall,’repliedFagin,‘andwe’llhaveabig-wig,Charley:onethat’sgotthegreatestgiftofthegab:tocarryonhisdefence;andheshallmakeaspeechforhimselftoo,ifhelikes;andwe’llreaditallinthepapers—"ArtfulDodger—shrieksoflaughter—herethecourtwasconvulsed"—eh,Charley,eh?’

           ‘Ha!ha!laughedMasterBates,‘whatalarkthatwouldbe,wouldn’tit,Fagin?Isay,howtheArtfulwouldbother’emwouldn’the?’

           ‘Would!’criedFagin.‘Heshall—hewill!’

           ‘Ah,tobesure,sohewill,’repeatedCharley,rubbinghishands.

           ‘IthinkIseehimnow,’criedtheJew,bendinghiseyesuponhispupil.

           ‘SodoI,’criedCharleyBates.‘Ha!ha!ha!sodoI.Iseeitallaforeme,uponmysoulIdo,Fagin.Whatagame!Whataregulargame!Allthebig-wigstryingtolooksolemn,andJackDawkinsaddressingof’emasintimateandcomfortableasifhewasthejudge’sownsonmakingaspeecharterdinner—ha!ha!ha!’

           Infact,Mr.Faginhadsowellhumouredhisyoungfriend’seccentricdisposition,thatMasterBates,whohadatfirstbeendisposedtoconsidertheimprisonedDodgerratherinthelightofavictim,nowlookeduponhimasthechiefactorinasceneofmostuncommonandexquisitehumour,andfeltquiteimpatientforthearrivalofthetimewhenhisoldcompanionshouldhavesofavourableanopportunityofdisplayinghisabilities.

           ‘Wemustknowhowhegetsonto-day,bysomehandymeansorother,’saidFagin.‘Letmethink.’

           ‘ShallIgo?’askedCharley.

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