Oldal 144 [144]
102
confused as the noises that greeted the
ear, might be made out; and, as the eye
grew more accustomed to the scene, the
spectator gradually became aware of the
presence of a numerous company, male
and female, crowded round a long table,
at the upper end of which sat a chairman
with a hammer of office in his hand, while
a professional gentleman, with a bluish
of a tooth-ache, presided at a jingling
piano in a remote corner.
sional gentleman, running over the keys
by way of prelude, occasioned a general
cry of order for a song; which having
subsided, a young lady proceeded to en¬
tertain the company with a ballad in four
verses, between each of which the ac¬
companyist played the melody all through
as loud as he could. When this was
over, the chairman gave a sentiment;
after which, the professional gentlemen
on the chairman’s right and left volun¬
teered a duet, and sang it with great ap¬
plause.
It was curious to observe some faces
which stood out prominently from among
the group. There was the chairman him¬
self, the landlord of the house: a coarse,
rough, heavy-built fellow, who, while the
songs
hither and thither, and, seeming to give
himself up to joviality, had an eye for
everything that was done, and an ear for
everything that was said,—and sharp
ones, too. Near him were the singers,
receiving with professional indifference
the compliments of the company, and ap¬
plying themselves in turn to a dozen prof¬
fered glasses of spirits and water tender¬
ed by their more boisterous admirers,
whose countenances, expressive of almost
every vice in almost every grade, irre¬
sistibly attracted the attention by their
very repulsiveness. Cunning, ferocity,
and drunkenness in all its stages, were
there in their strongest aspects; and
women—some with the last lingering
tinge of their early freshness almost fa¬
ding as you looked, and others with every
mark and stamp of their sex utterly
beaten out, and presenting but one loath¬
some blank of profligacy and crime; some
mere girls, others but young women, and
none past the prime of life,—formed the
darkest and saddest portion of this dreary
picture. bled by
in, trou no grave emotions,
looked eagerly from face to face while
these proceedings were in progress, but
apparently without meeting that of which
he was in search. Succeeding at length
in catching the eye of the man who occu¬
pied the chair, he beckoned to him slight¬
ly, and left the room as quietly as he had
entered it.
“ What can I do for you, Mr. Fagin?”
softly inquired the man as he followed
him out to the landing. “ Won’t you
join ust They ’ll be delighted, every
one of "em."
The Jew shook his head impatiently,
and said in a whisper, “Is he here?"
“ No,” replied the man.
“And no news of Barney?” inquired
Fagin.
“None,” replied the landlord of the
Cripples, for it was he. “He won't stir
till it’s all safe. Depend on it that
they ’re on the scent down there, and that
once. He’s all right enough, Barney is;
pound it that Barney ’s managing proper¬
ly. Let him alone for that.”
“Will he be here to-night?” asked the
pronoun as before.
“ Monks do you mean?” inyuired the
landlord, hesitating.
“ Hush!” said the Jew. “ Yes.”
“Certain,” replied the man, drawing a
gold watch from his fob; “I expected
him here before now. If you ‘ll wait ten
minutes, he "11 re
“No, no,” said the Jew hastily, as
though, however desirous he might be to
see the person in question, he was never¬
theless relieved by his absence. “ Tell
him I came here to see him, and that he
must come to me to-night; no, say to¬
morrow. As he is not here, to-morrow
will be time enough.”
“Good!” said the man. “ Nothing
more ?" |
* Not a word now,” said the Jew, de¬
scending the stairs.
“T say,” said the other, looking over
the rails, and speaking in a hoarse whis¬
per; “what a time this would be for a
sell! I’ve got Phil Barker here, so drunk,
that a boy might take him.”
“Aha! But it’s not Phil Barker's
time,” said the Jew, looking up. “ Phil
has something more to do before we can
afford to part with him; so go back to
the company, my dear, and tell them to
lead merry lives—thile they last. Ha!
ha! ha!’
The landlord reciprocated the old man’s
laugh, and returned to his guests, The