Chapter Two

There was a loud moan and then the sound of fabric brushing the ground. Charley felt himself awake and the room came into focus. A candle had been lit out in the hallway, but the room was still dark. He looked back over to his right and saw something stirring on the floor. Feeling a sudden panic com over him, he jumped to his feet and backed away against the far wall. His heart pounded in his ears and the black heap upon the floor crawled towards him. Charley closed his eyes and imagined being attacked by giant spiders. He had had nightmares where such things had occurred.

The beast stopped short of Charley and groaned. Charley opened his eyes and the whole situation became as clear as glass. He had attacked Dodge. It was he who was crawling around the room. Charley sighed and tried to relax.

"Dodge?" he whispered into the darkness.

"Char - ow!" Dodge fell over on to his side and a thump was heard.

"Are you alright, Dodge. I'm sorry!" Charley didn't dare raise his voice. He knelt down on the floor to see what was going on.

Dodge had curled himself into a tight ball. "My head - Charley, what happened?" he spoke through clenched teeth and seemed to be in great pain.

"I accidently knocked you against a desk - I'm sorry, Dodge. But I have been waiting for you to wake up - I was worried. I have a surprise for you. I still have Fagin's box - we can split it. Even, fifty/fifty! I promise. Please don't tell - he'll kill me!"

Dodge raised himself up onto his hands and peered at Charley through the gloom. "You still have the box? Where at?"

"Under a floor-board. Come on, we can escape with it," He grabbed Dodge's hand and began to pull.

"Stop it, you dummy! Ow!" Charley let go and Dodge clutched his head in his hand. "Wait a minute and shut up!"

Charley fell silent and voices were heard below.

"It's Bill," whispered Dodge. "We can't go now, besides, I don't feel like running off right now, anyways." He moved away to a corner of the room and leant back against a wall. Charley stayed near the door, listening.

After a few minutes, Dodge's voice came from out of the gloom, "Go on. Yer might as well. Bring back a report."

Charley nodded, but did not look behind him. His eyes were focused solely on the stairway. He bent down and crawled on all fours to the first step. He looked down and saw candlelight drifting in from the kitchen on the main floor. It illuminated the dark entry with a yellow-orange glow and cast long shadows up the high walls and ceiling. Charley arose from the ground and stepped softly down a few more steps. He slipped his hand down the rail, in order to catch himself should he slip and he stayed on the right side of the steps, where they were less likely to creak.

He stopped halfway down and listened intently. Fagin's raspy voice could be heard.

"That's what you need to do . . . train him."

"An' hows that? Why don't yer get it done yerself?"

"Because it is delicate - a delicate situation. Something for your talents."

Fagin coughed for a moment. Then, he must have moved in front of the fire, for his shadow came crawling out into the entry. Charley felt his heart skip a beat and he retreated up a few steps.

Bill spoke, "Gettin' colder by the minute. Put another log on, will yer."

"Ah yes, only for you, Bill."

There was a shuffling sound and then the sound of a fist hitting a table.

"Yer think he's so dangerous, get rid o' him."

"He's worth too much, my dear," Charley could hear the leering scoff in the old Jew's voice.

"So what? Train him to plunder other estates that are nicer than yer own? Stupid . . ." Bill stopped short.

Fagin made some remark that was so quiet that Charley could not catch it.

"What abou' the other one? He's good enough to do it all."

"Peaching, peaching, remember that!"

"So they're a pair o' loafers - so what?"

"I want him trained, that's what!"

Silence prevailed for an instant and then Bill spoke once more.

"Why would he work that way? Supposin' he could steal from ev'ry house in London-way . . . what would he do? Give it to you - no."

"No, my dear, no? He will if I must cut him to get at it!" Fagin's voice had risen slightly, but he soon went back to a calm tone. "He will or else. Besides, I must - um - see to something important. Is Nance coming?"

"Yeah, she's coming."

"Good, good, good . . ."

"Just for tonight, though."

"Yes, my dear, just for tonight - ah - unless . . ."

"Unless, what?"

"Unless, I see fit for you to stay longer. In case I need more assistance - you would help me, wouldn't you, Bill?"

Bill grunted and then responded with a firm 'maybe.'

"Some tea then?"

Charley did not wait to listen to the rest of the conversation. He crept back upstairs and into the bedroom. He walked over to the dark heap in the corner. Dodge lifted his head and peered up at Charley. "So what?"

"Well, Fagin does know it's me . . . and he wants to train me to burglarize estates - or something. Bill wants to get rid of me, but he doesn't dare cross Fagin, so he's going along with it. Nancy is coming over to spend the night, along with Bill. Seems that they are supposed to help Fagin keep an eye on me."

Dodge grinned so widely that his expression could be seen in the dark, "Yeah, yer so dangerous, Charley! Well, maybe as long as you've got a desk or somethin' to kill yer victims with!"

"You're not dead, Dodge," Charley spoke in a very serious and soft voice.

"Of course! I'm joking, Charley! I'm not calling you a murderer. You'd never do that. It's not in your instincts."

"Maybe," Charley sat down upon the floor and thought. "You can have Elizabeth Drickford, if you want her. I don't care anymore."

"Charley! She's yours, you won. . . ." Dodges voice faded.

"Go ahead and take her," Charley persisted.

Dodge answered with a 'no' and shook his head in a pitying manner.

"Have you still got the ruby choker?" asked Charley after a thought.

Dodge fingered around in his pocket and felt the silver necklace. "Yeah, I've still got it - Here," he held it out and Charley took it.

"Fagin wants his box back," Charley replied, as though it was a well-kept secret.

"'Course he does," Dodge yawned. "It's his pride and joy."

"He says he'll get it back from me - even if he has to cut me for it . . ."

"Sounds like him. Don't worry about it. As long as he had Bill and Nance over - well, it's obvious what that means - he's scared enough that he doesn't want to be in the house alone with you. For all he knows, I'm still out dead-cold."

Charley nodded and then answered, "But you said that it was obvious that such actions were not normal for me. I'm not exactly the scariest person around, you know. Surely he knows that!"

"I don't know, Charley. He only sees you at dinner an' breakfast. He doesn't know you like I know you. All he sees is a joking boy who is apt to laugh at just about anything and who could possibly use such a personality to hide the real him - the one that wants to murder people for their belongings," Dodge finished in a very hushed tone.

Charley felt a shiver rise up his spine at this horrible description of himself. He moved closer to his friend and leant against the wall, his knees up and his feet flat on the ground. He stared ahead into the darkness and then spoke, just to change the subject. "You left your hat in the other room."

"Yeah, I figured. Gosh, I wish my 'ead would stop throbbing!"

"It was bleeding a bit. I washed it in whisky and tried to clot the cut . . . I haven't got anything proper like cocaine or somethin'."

"That would help. I used to have a bit in one of my snuff-boxes, but I lost it."

"Oh yeah, shame that."

They went silent for a time. The house had become extremely still and quiet.

Dodge arose after a while and began to pace the room in a seemingly anxious manner. He went over to the mirror to inspect his head for an instant and then he turned to face Charley, who had not moved in all the time that had lapsed. "Charley, you should put that choker away before it's taken off your person."

Charley got up off the floor and headed for the door. He paused for an instant and replied, "I'll get your hat, while I'm at it."

As Charley made his way down the hall, he heard a familiar voice. He looked over the railing and stared down into the face of Nancy. She was standing halfway up the staircase and her eyes stared up at him. She waved at him and then mounted the rest of the steps in silence.

Once up, she came close to Charley and whispered in his ear, "Where is Dodge?"

Charley pointed over to the bedroom at the far end of the hallway. Nancy nodded and then added, "I've got some stuff for him."

Charley nodded and then watched as the girl went away from him at a fast pace.

Now, he moved on to the room in which they had fought earlier. He looked about himself, worried that perhaps the old Jew had set some sort of trap for him. Furniture was still overturned as it had been, but the windows had been shut and the drapes had been drawn. The room was stuffy-smelling now and Charley wondered whether it was because of the heaviness of the air or his own worry that made breathing difficult.

He sneaked over to the middle of the room and squatted on the floor. He pulled up the plank of wood and placed the necklace within. He then replaced the board and went back to the bedroom, after first retrieving Dodge's hat.

Dodge was sitting quietly upon the floor once more and Nancy was busy coating his wound with some sort of substance. He winced a couple of times and the girl made remarks about his being 'difficult to work with.'

"Here's your hat," Charley handed it to Dodge.

"Thanks."

Nancy looked up and brushed some hair out of her eyes. "I'm almost finished," she whispered. She then eyed Charley with a very steady gaze and remarked casually, "So, are you gonna tell me where you hid it or not?"

Charley swallowed and then said, "Hid what?"

Nancy looked back up at him again and repeated, "Are you gonna tell me or not?"

Dodge made a quick movement with his hand. Nancy grabbed it and began to implore him to be still. "I am almost done! Stop it - you men are all such babies!"

Charley cleared his throat, "You're gonna tell Fagin, right . . . I mean - um."

He stopped short because Nancy had given him a very harsh glance. "Why would I do that?! I don't work for Fagin. I am trying to help you two idiots - if only, God help me, you would cooperate!"

Charley swallowed again and then said, "Sorry, Nance - um - I hid it under a floorboard."

"Well, is it easy to get to?" Nancy questioned sharply.

"Yes, it's easy to get to."

Nancy turned back to Dodge, "There, I'm done torturing you. Put your hat back on. I'm going back downstairs. Fagin and Bill are in the back room. I will go keep them busy. You two," she glared at them both, "You two can get out of here. Take the stuff and go. I don't care where to - just get yourselves out of here." She turned and walked out of the room and down the stairs.

Charley followed her, in order to listen to her retreating footsteps. Once, he believed that all was safe, he stole back to the other room and grabbed all his belongings.

Voices came from downstairs.

"Where were yer?!" Bill's tone was harsh.

"Getting together the rest of my things back home," answered Nancy with indifference.

"Now, Bill," Fagin had changed to a sugary simper. "No use getting in a mood - Nancy did nothing wrong . . ."

Bill grunted, but said nothing else.

"Wine, my dears?" Fagin spoke up.

"Why not have some, Bill?" Nancy persisted.

"Alright," There was the clink of glass and the popping sound of a cork being extracted from a bottle.

Charley darted back into the bedroom and found Dodge looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"Come on, Dodge!" Charley tapped him on the arm. "Nance has them all occupied. I got the stuff - let's go!"

Dodge hesitated, but then followed Charley out of the room.

They stepped cautiously down to the entryway. The light was still on in the kitchen, but there was no one about. They paused to listen to the conversation in the back room.

"Business is good as usual, my dear," Fagin was using his very pleasant, conversational tone this time.

"Good pickings? Dodger been hard at work?"

"Yes, my dear. As usual. Not much to say otherwise. At least about Dodge . . ."

The old Jew paused momentarily and then spoke to Bill. "Bill, why don't you go see how Charley is getting along . . ."

Dodge and Charley glanced hastily at one another and then darted for the door. There was no reason to hear any more of the conversation.

They ran down the staircase that led down into the alleyways and then flew, at high speed, down several streets. Neither of them took the time to look back until they had reached the safety of a small church.

They stopped, panting, and began to wander about the graveyard in back. It was empty, but a very good hiding place. They found a tall gravestone, flopped down into the tall grasses behind it, and opened the box. Dodge extracted several items and began to look closely at them.

"I can't see much, but it looks like you're rich," he put the items back in the box and then laid down flat upon the grass. "My 'ead feels a bit numb," he replied, seeing that Charley was going to stay silent. "It's that stuff Nance put on it - good thing my 'at covers it all. Say, Charley, I'm going to sleep."

"Me too. We can look at this stuff when the sun is up," Charley jumped up to his feet in sudden alarm after saying this.

"What's it now?"

"I feel I should get this stuff hid again," Charley explained. "I don't feel to relaxed about it - supposing Fagin or Bill show up."

"They won't!" Dodge closed his eyes in annoyance. "Relax will ya! Nance is taking the rap for it - as far as they know, we're gone for good. Besides, they would never come here; the police station is just down the way. Go to sleep. If you feel scared, cover it with grass or something."

Charley nodded and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Dodge sighed and then added, "You're rich Charley!"

"No," Charley raised his head up and stared over at his friend. "We're both rich. Remember, I promised you half."

"You're such a terrible prig," Dodge grinned.

"Thanks," whispered Charley, recognizing the insult as a compliment on his generosity. He then fell silent and closed his eyes.