oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第85部分

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“In　a　little　community　like　ours；　my　dear；”　said　Fagin；　who　felt　
it　necessary　to　qualify　his　position；　“we　have　a　general　number　
one；　that　is；　you　can’t　consider　yourself　as　number　one；　without

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considering　me　too　as　the　same；　and　all　the　other　young　people。”　

“Oh；　the　devil！”　exclaimed　Mr。　Bolter。　

“You　see；”　pursued　Fagin；　affecting　to　disregard　this　
interruption；　awe　are　so　mixed　up　together；　and　identified　in　our　
interests；　that　it　must　be　so。　For　instance；　it’s　your　object　to　take　
care　of　number　one—meaning　yourself。”　

“Certainly；”　replied　Mr。　Bolter。　“Yer　about　right　there。”　

“Well！　You　can’t　take　care　of　yourself；　number　one；　without　
taking　care　of　me；　number　one。”　

“Number　two；　you　mean；”　said　Mr。　Bolter；　who　was　largely　
endowed　with　the　quality　of　selfishness。　

“No；　I　don’t！”　retorted　Fagin。　“I’m　of　the　same　importance　to　
you；　as　you　are　to　yourself。”　

“I　say；”　interrupted　Mr。　Bolter；　“yer　a　very　nice　man；　and　I’m　
very　fond　of　yer；　but　we　ain’t　quite　so　thick　together；　as　all　that　
comes　to。”　

“Only　think；”　said　Fagin；　shrugging　his　shoulders；　and　
stretching　out　his　hands；　“only　consider。　You’ve　done　what’s　a　
very　pretty　thing；　and　what　I　love　you　for　doing；　but　what　at　the　
same　time　would　put　the　cravat　round　your　throat；　that’s　so　very　
easily　tied　and　so　very　difficult　to　unloose—in　plain　English；　the　
halter！”　

Mr。　Bolter　put　his　hand　to　his　neckerchief；　as　if　he　felt　it　
inconveniently　tight；　and　murmured　an　assent；　qualified　in　tone　
but　not　in　substance。　

“The　gallows；”　continued　Fagin—“the　gallows；　my　dear；　is　an　
ugly　finger…post；　which　points　out　a　very　short　and　sharp　turning　
that　has　stopped　many　a　bold　fellow’s　career　on　the　broad　
highway。　To　keep　in　the　easy　road；　and　keep　it　at　a　distance；　is　

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object　number　one　with　you。”　

“Of　course　it　is；”　replied　Mr。　Bolter。　“What　do　yer　talk　about　
such　things　for？”　

“Only　to　show　you　my　meaning　clearly；”　said　the　Jew；　raising　
his　eyebrows。　“To　be　able　to　do　that；　you　depend　upon　me。　To　
keep　my　little　business　all　snug；　I　depend　upon　you。　The　first　is　
your　number　one；　the　second　my　number　one。　The　more　you　value　
your　number　one；　the　more　careful　you　must　be　of　mine；　so　we　
come　at　last　to　what　I　told　you　at　first—that　a　regard　for　number　
one　holds　us　all　together；　and　must　do　so；　unless　we　would　all　go　to　
pieces　in　company。”　

“That’s　true；”　rejoined　Mr。　Bolter　thoughtfully。　“Oh！　yer　a　
cunning　old　codger！”　

Mr。　Fagin　saw；　with　delight；　that　this　tribute　to　his　powers　was　
no　mere　compliment；　but　that　he　had　really　impressed　his　recruit　
with　a　sense　of　his　wily　genius；　which　it　was　most　important　that　
he　should　entertain　in　the　outset　of　their　acquaintance。　To　
strengthen　an　impression　so　desirable　and　useful；　he　followed　up　
the　blow　by　acquainting　him；　in　some　detail；　with　the　magnitude　
and　extent　of　his　operations；　blending　truth　and　fiction　together；　
as　best　served　his　purpose；　and　bringing　both　to　bear；　with　so　
much　art；　that　Mr。　Bolter’s　respect　visibly　increased；　and　became　
tempered　at　the　same　time；　with　a　degree　of　wholesome　fear；　
which　it　was　highly　desirable　to　awaken。　

“It’s　this　mutual　trust　we　have　in　each　other　that　consoles　me　
under　heavy　losses；”　said　Fagin。　“My　best　hand　was　taken　from　
me；　yesterday　morning。”　

“You　don’t　mean　to　say　he　died？”　cried　Mr。　Bolter。　

“No；　no；”　replied　Fagin；　“not　so　bad　as　that。　Not　quite　so　bad。”　

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“What；　I　suppose　he　was—”　

“Wanted；”　interposed　Fagin。　“Yes；　he　was　wanted。”　

“Very　particular？”　inquired　Mr。　Bolter。　

“No；”　replied　Fagin；　“not　very。　He　was　charged　with　attempting　
to　pick　a　pocket；　and　they　found　a　silver　snuff…box　on　him—his　
own；　my　dear；　his　own；　for　he　took　snuff　himself；　and　was　very　
fond　of　it。　They　remanded　him　till　today；　for　they　thought　they　
knew　the　owner。　Ah！　he　was　worth　fifty　boxes；　and　I’d　give　the　
price　of　as　many　to　have　him　back。　You　should　have　known　the　
Dodger；　my　dear；　you　should　have　known　the　Dodger。”　

“Well；　but　I　shall　know　him；　I　hope；　don’t　yer　think　so？”　said　
Mr。　Bolter。　

“I’m　doubtful　about　it；”　replied　Fagin；　with　a　sigh。　“If　they　don’t　
get　any　fresh　evidence；　it’ll　only　be　a　summary　conviction；　and　we　
shall　have　him　back　again　after　six　weeks　or　so；　but；　if　they　do；　it’s　
a　case　of　lagging。　They　know　what　a　clever　lad　he　is；　he’ll　be　a　lifer。　
They’ll　make　the　Artful　nothing　less　than　a　lifer。”　

“What　do　yer　mean　by　lagging　and　a　lifer？”　demanded　Mr。　
Bolter。　“What’s　the　good　of　talking　in　that　way　to　me；　why　don’t　
yer　speak　so　as　I　can　understand　yer？”　

Fagin　was　about　to　translate　these　mysterious　expressions　into　
the　vulgar　tongue；　and；　being　interpreted；　Mr。　Bolter　would　have　
been　informed　that　they　represented　that　combination　of　words；　
“transportation　for　life；”　when　the　dialogue　was　cut　short　by　the　
entry　of　Master　Bates；　with　his　hands　in　his　breeches　pockets；　and　
his　face　twisted　into　a　look　of　semi…comical　woe。　

“It’s　all　up；　Fagin；”　said　Charley；　when　he　and　his　new　
companion　had　been　made　known　to　each　other。　

“What　do　you　mean？”　

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“They’ve　found　the　gentleman　as　owns　the　box；　two　or　three　
more’s　a…coming　to　’dentify　him；　and　the　Artful’s　booked　for　a　
passage　out；”　replied　Master　Bates。　“I　must　have　a　full　suit　of　
mourning；　Fagin；　and　a　hatband；　to　wisit　him　in；　afore　he　sets　out　
upon　his　travels。　To　think　of　Jack　Dawkins—lummy　Jack—the　
Dodger—the　Artful　Dodger—going　abroad　for　a　common　
twopenny…halfpenny　sneeze…box！　I　never　thought　he’d　a　done　it　
under　a　gold　watch；　chain；　and　seals；　at　the　lowest。　Oh；　why　didn’t　
he　rob　some　rich　old　gentleman　of　all　his　walables；　and　go　out　as　a　
gentleman；　and　not　like　a　common　prig；　without　no　honour　nor　
glory！”　

With　this　expression　of　feeling　for　his　unfortunate　friend；　
Master　Bates　sat　himself　on　the　nearest　chair　with　an　aspect　of　
chagrin　and　despondency。　

“What　do　you　talk　about　his　having　neither　honour　nor　glory　
for！”　exclaimed　Fagin；　darting　an　angry　look　at　his　pupil。　“Wasn’t　
he　always　top…sawyer　among　you　all！　Is　there　one　of　you　that　could　
touch　him　or　come　near　him　on　any　scent！　Eh？”　

“Not　one；”　replied　Master　Bates；　in　a　voice　rendered　husky　by　
regret；　“not　one。”　

“Then　what　do　you　talk　of？”　replied　Fagin　angrily；　“what　are　
you　blubbering　for？”　

“‘Cause　it　isn’t　on　the　record；　is　it？”　said　Charley；　chafed　into　
perfect　defiance　of　his　venerable　friend　by　the　current　of　his　
regrets；　“’cause　it　can’t　come　out　in　the　’dictment；　’cause　nobody　
will　never　know　half　of　what　he　was。　How　will　be　stand　in　the　
Newgate　Calendar？　P’r’aps　not　be　there　at　all。　Oh；　my　eye；　my　eye；　
wot　a　blow　it　is！”　

“Ha！　ha！”　cried　Fagin；　extending　his　right　hand；　and　turning　to　

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Mr。　Bolter　in　a　fit　of　chuckling　which　shook　him　as　though　he　had　
the　palsy；　“see　what　a　pride　they　take　in　their　profession；　my　dear。　
Ain’t　it　beautiful？”　

Mr。　Bolter　nodded　assent；　and　Fagin；　after　contemplating　the　
grief　of　Charley　Bates　for　some　seconds　with　evident　satisfaction；　
stepped　up　to　that　young　gentleman　and　patted　him　on　the　
shoulder。　

“Never　mind；　Charley；”　said　Fagin　soothingly；　“it’ll　come　out；　
it’ll　be　sure　to　come　out。　They’ll　all　know　what　a　clever　fellow　he　
was；　he’ll　show　it　himself；　and　not　disgrace　his　old　pals　and　
teachers。　Think　how　young　he　is　too！　What　a　distinction；　Charley；　
to　be　lagged　at　his　time　of　life！”　

“Well；　it　is　a　honour；　that　is！”　said　Charley；　a　little　consoled。　

“He　shall　have　all　he　wants；”　continued　the　Jew。　“He　shall　be　
kept　in　the　stone　jug；　Charley；　like　a　gentleman。　Like　a　gentleman！　
With　his　beer　every　day；　and　money　in　his　pocket　to　pitch　and　toss　
with；　if　he　can’t　spend　it。”　

“No；　shall　he　though？”　cried　Charley　Bates。　

“Ay；　that　he　shall；”　replied　Fagin；　“and　we’ll　have　a　bigwig；　
Charley—one　that’s　got　the　greatest　gift　of　the　gab—to　carry　on　his　
defence；　and　he　shall　make　a　speech　for　himself　too；　if　he　likes；　
and　we’ll　read　it　all　in　the　papers—‘Artful　Dodger　shrieks　of　
laughter—here　the　court　was　convulsed’—eh；　Charley；　eh？”　

“Ha！　ha！”　laughed　Master　Bates；　“what　a　lark　that　would　be；　
wouldn’t　it；　Fagin？　I　say；　how　the　Artful　would　bother　’em；　
wouldn’t　he？”　

“Would！”　cried　Fagin。　“He　shall—he　will！”　

“Ah；　to　be　sure；　so　he　will；”　repeated　Charley；　rubbing　his　
hands。　

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“I　think　I　see　him　now；”　cried　the　Jew；　bending　his　eyes　upon　
his　pupil。　

“So　do　I；”　cried　Charley　Bates。　“Ha！　ha！　ha！　so　do　I。　I　see　it　all　
afore　me；　upon　my　soul　I　do；　Fagin。　What　a　game！　What　a　regular　
game！　All　the　bigwigs　trying　to　look　solemn；　and　Jack　Dawkins