Chapter Forty-Six – Newgate
How long had it been? Four hours? Five? Too long, certainly.
Fagin paced anxiously up and down the den, nibbling, rat-like, on his yellowing nails, his eyes darting about as if expecting to see Bill and Toby emerge from thin air. He pulled his pocketwatch from his waistcoat pocket and checked it. The faint light of early dawn was beginning to seep through the windows.
What was taking them so long?
--
Nancy had been up all night, unable to sleep a wink. Having tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall into blissful nothingness, she had stationed herself by the window in the hope of seeing Bill returning. Her eyes were lifeless and rimmed with grey and red, her hair matted from the countless times she'd run her fingers through it.
Where was Bill?
Something must have happened…
It was only then, as that terrifying thought entered her mind, that the young woman allowed herself to cry.
--
"W-wot the 'ell did I drink las' night?"
Toby's voice broke through Bill's fogged thoughts like a whiplash. He raised his head from the floor and struggled to open his eyes.
Then the memories of the previous night hit him full force. He was at once wide awake and on his feet, taking in his surroundings with numerous curses and threats.
The floor on which he and his partner had spent the night was cold and damp, flecked here and there with bits of straw. The room was narrow and cramped with two wooden benches, one on either side. The door was heavy and wooden, with a small barred window at its head. Glancing upwards along the worn stone wall, Bill let out his most furious curse yet.
That window too was barred.
He and Toby were in the clink.
For the next few minutes, having come to this realization, Bill cursed Toby, the key he'd acquired, the police force, Fagin and anyone and anything else it came to mind to curse at. Toby, seeming too to realize what had happened, shrank back in his corner of the cell, terrified. The fact that he was locked in here with no way of escaping Bill's wrath made the other's tirade all the worse.
"Bill," he began, after Bill had calmed down sufficiently to mutter the threats rather than yell them. "Bill, 'ow wos I to know, eh? I thought it wos just like any other crack! 'Ow wos I to know this wos gonna 'appen? If you wanna blame anyone, blame the wench wot gave me the key!"
Bill did so, but the turned his accusations back to Toby all the same.
"So wot you're tellin' me is, you wooed yer way into tha' 'ouse an' the servant girl gave you the wrong key?" he snarled, resisting (with a great effort) to bash Toby's head in.
"Basically," said Toby guiltily.
"Tha' means I can assume she's peached on yer?" said Bill furiously. "She seems all contrite, gives you a key, you go off on yer way, she tells the traps…we come to break into the place an' get ambushed by the traps? Is tha' wot I'm meant to assume 'ere you worthless piece of-"
"Alright, alright!" cried Toby, hands over his ears. "Tha's probably right an' I don't want to 'ear it! We're in the clink…ain't tha' enough for ya?"
Bill nodded miserably, suddenly lost for words. As if in an attempt to make him feel worse, thoughts of Nancy suddenly accosted his mind. He groaned and hid his head in his hands, biting his lip as if to keep back another scream of frustration.
This abrupt change in Bill's attitude scared Toby; even more so than his shouting. The ginger haired man repaired to his wooden bench and sat then, chin resting in his hands, brow furrowed as he tried to come up with something, anything to say that might patch things up between him and Bill, or at least break the awkward silence.
But he could think of nothing.
--
Dodger ambled down the cobblestones, half-heartedly looking for a likely pick pocketing candidate. But it was still quite early and not many people were about. Vendors were just setting up their stalls, the shops just taking down their shutters. Dodger whistled to himself as he walked, completely at ease with himself and his surroundings.
By the by the streets became more crowded and Dodger set to work. He was thoroughly engrossed for an hour or two, the thrill of the job, the dodging and weaving through the crowd keeping his mind occupied.
But soon, as all young people do, he grew hungry and was forced to halt his endeavors momentarily to swipe himself some food from a nearby market stall. As he found himself a spot in which to eat it, he overheard two young men in tailcoats discussing the morning's news. Normally Dodger wouldn't have cared, but what they were saying piqued his interest. Only when he'd heard the whole of the conversation did he realize just how the previous night and panned out.
He knew, in that moment, that everything had changed.
For the worse.
"Did you read the paper this morning Anthony?"
"I most certainly did, my good man. See those two men that got caught outside the Morgan's house last night?"
"Oh yes indeed. Shocking business that, shocking."
"The men were wanted for a few other such escapades, you know. They're in jail now, of course, Newgate, I expect. They'll be there for a good long time to come, I should hope."
"But they hadn't actually broken in when they were arrested…doesn't that mean they'll get off?"
"I most certainly hope not! Are you defending these villains?"
"Not at all! How could you draw that conclusion? I was simply observing-"
"Oh, it's no matter now. What were the men's names again? I have some connections to the chief constable you know and might be able to make their sentences a bit longer…"
A chuckle from his companion which, to Dodger's ears sounded like the laughter of an evil and twisted villain who had at last reached the final phase of his master plan.
"Why, I thought you would have remembered! Everyone's heard of them, though they've never been caught!"
"Well?"
"Tobias Crackit and Bill Sykes. That's them. In Newgate Prison."
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A/N: It's been far too long since I worked on this story. D8
Apologies.
Here's hoping you enjoyed this chapter!
Please R&R!
