The Artful Dodger

Chapter 9

Fagin beckoned Peter, and called for the Dodger and Paul to help him in his demonstration. Fagin grabbed a walking stick and tipped a box of valuables into his pocket. He imitated a rich old gentleman strolling along the road as Paul slid behind him, sneaking a hand into the pocket. Out came the pocket watch, and a string of jewels. This was then passed to the Dodger, who promptly swung the watch into his inner waistcoat pocket. Peter watched, open mouthed.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Look here!" said Paul.

Paul demonstrated his limp wrist and groping fingers, and Peter copied as well as he could. After an afternoon, he was agile and swift in the art, and earned the top praise of Fagin.

"I reckon's you'll be just as good as Dodger one day! You can go out on yer first job tomorrow, Davy'll take you." he said, patting the boy proudly.

Davy nodded his approval from the other side of the room, where Charley had been giving a very long demonstration on handkerchiefs. Of course, Rose hadn't needed quite that long to get the knack of it, but Charley and the rest of the boys who had been surrounding her didn't seem to want to stop talking.

She felt like her world was ending, but the easy jokes from Charley, the smooth comments from Dodger, and the cheeky lines from the other boys cheered her up slightly. When the boys had no more excuses for their continued presence, they left her side and sat around the room discussing the new arrivals loudly.

Rose felt uncomfortable by this, and Dodger could see it in her face.

"Shush your mouths, boys! Lady present!" he yelled, and steered her towards a low bed that was used as a couch near Fagin's area. They smiled at each other.

"Sorry 'bout that, Rose."

"That's quite alright, Dodger. You're a perfect gentlemen, not like them. Oliver's very polite too."

Dodger tried not to get jealous that time, for he know it was true. If anything, Oliver was more polite than him.

"You're too kind," Dodger said, then looked around, startled at a loud bang of the door. His face fell dramatically. He pulled down his hat, which he was still wearing, and his countenance became hard and set.

"What's wrong?" began Rose, and then looked at the doorway of the den, where Bill Sikes had entered. He strode across the room, ignoring the stares of the scandalised boys. They had realised who had murdered Mike Smith the night before- it was common knowledge now.

"Fagin. A word?" he said coldly.

"Be my guest, Bill."

Fagin bowed Bill into his small private area, and shooed Dodger and Rose out of the way. However, they stayed put to listen.

"Bill... that was a dangerous move, my boy."

"What?" Bill hissed.

"I reckon killin' that Smith were a bit too... extreme. Could be very damagin' if it got out."

"It won't get out. But he 'ad it comin'. No one messes with my property."

Dodger saw the look of horror dawning in Rose's eyes. Here was the man that had killed her father, and did not regret it. He was acquaintances with her new carer. Her world had just turned inside out, and the further she tried to free herself from crime, the further into it she was drawn. She had a faint idea what she needed to pick the initials out of the handkerchiefs for, and it was for no good reason.

She was living with robbers.

"- yes, Bill, his two kids are with me now, 'ad nowhere to go. The young'un's a good pickpocket already, could give the Dodger a run for his money, an' he's going out in the morning," said Fagin. He was completely unaware of the listeners.