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41 yet the self-same senses were mentally engaged at the same time, in busy action with almost everybody he had ever known. When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob, and, standing in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes as if he did not. well know how to employ himself, turned round and looked at Oliver, and called him by his name. . He did not answer, and was to all appearance asleep. After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently to the door, which he fastened; he then drew forth, as it seemed to Oliver, from some trap in the floor, a small box, which he placed carefully on the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid and looked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down, and took from it a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with diamonds, | . Aha!’said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting every feature with a hideous grin. “Clever dogs! clever dogs! Staunch to the last! Never told the old parson where they were; never peached upon old Fagin. And why should they? It wouldn’t have loosened the knot, or kept the drop up a minute longer. No, no, no! Fine fellows! fine fellows!” With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature, the Jew once more . deposited the watch in its place of safety. At least half a dozen more were severally drawn forth from the same box, and surveyed with equal pleasure ; besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and other articles of jewellery, of such magnificent materials and costly workmanship, that Oliver had no idea even of their names. Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another, so small that it lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be some very minute inscription on it, for the Jew laid it flat upon the table, and, shading it with his feels pored over it long and if despairing of success, and, leaning back in his chair, muttered, “ What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent; dead men never bring awkward stories to light. The rospect of the gallows, too, makes them ardy and bold. Ah! it’s a fine thing for the trade! Five of them strung up in a row, and none left to play booty or turn white-livered !” As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, which had been staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver’s face ; the boy’s eyes were fixed on his in mute 4* F curiosity, and, although the recognition was only for an instant—for the briefest space of time that can possibly be conceived,—it was enough to show the old man that he had been observed. He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash, and, laying his hand on a bread-knife which was on the table, started furiously up. He trembled very much, though ; for, even m his térror, Oliver could see that the knife quivered in the air. “ What’s that?" said the Jew. “ What do you watch me for? Why are you awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick—quick! for your life!” “T wasn’t able to sleep any longer, sir,” replied Oliver, meekly. “I am very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir.” c You were not awake an hour ago?” said the Jew, scowling fi¢rcely on the boy. “ No—no, indeed sir,” replied Oliver. 6 Are you sure?" cried the Jew, with a still fiercer look than before, and a threatening attitude. “Upon my word I was not, sir,” replied Oliver, earnestly. “I was not, indeed, sir.” “ Tush, tush, my dear!” said the Jew, suddenly resuming his old manner, and playing with the knife a little before he aid it down, as if to induce the belief that he had caught it up in mere sport. “Of course I know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You’re a brave boy. Ha! ha! you’re a brave boy, Olr ver!” and the Jew rubbed his hands with a chuckle, but looked uneasily at the box notwithstanding. “Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?” said the Jew, laying his hand upon it after a short pause. “ Yes, sir,” replied Oliver. “Ah!” said the Jew, turning rather pale. " They—they "re mine, Oliver; my little property. Alt I Have to live upon inmy old age. The folks call me a miser, my dear,—only a miser, that’s all.” Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser, to live in such a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking that perhaps his fondness for the Dodger and the other boys cost him a deal of money, he only cast a defemight get up. “Certainly, my dear,—certainly,” replied the old gentleman. “Stay. There’s a pitcher of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here, and I’ll give you a basin to wash in, my dear.” c Oliver got up, walked across the room, and stooped for one instant to raise the
