Chapter Forty-Seven – The Bird's Mouth

Dodger hurried back to Fagin's as fast as his legs could carry him, having to hold tight to his top hat to stop it falling off his head. His breath came in short sharp gasps and his face was soon flushed but he couldn't stop running…he had to tell Fagin, he had to tell the others…and what about Nancy? Did she already know? Dodger's stomach churned at the thought; how would she react to the news? Not well, he knew that much.

--

"H-he didn't come b-back…I-I d-don't know w-where he i-is…"

Nancy's terrified voice and heaving sobs were the first things Dodger heard as he stepped into the flat. She was slumped at the table, her hair tangled, her face caked with dried tears, her lip trembling. Fagin was seated next to her, looking very unsure, biting his lip and attempting in vain to offer the young woman condolence. At the sound of the door closing however both looked over; Fagin at first looked relieved but his expression turned even more anxious when he saw who it was, Nancy's face had first been flooded with relief but, similar to Fagin's, had been clouded over with doubt soon afterwards.

Fagin was the first to speak.

"What're you doing back here so early, Dodger?" he asked. Then, more forcefully; "Are the traps onto yer?"

"N-no," replied Dodger quickly. Now he was back he couldn't seem to find the words he needed to say. How could he tell Nancy when she looked so helpless, so afraid? What he had to say would make her feel a thousand times worse? But then how terrible would he feel if he didn't tell her? She had to know.

"I-I heard somethin' on the street," he managed to say. "About…las' night. Toby an'-"

Before he could finish his half formed explanation Nancy had sprung from the table and rushed over to him, a wild look in her eyes. She grabbed the front of his jacket and shook him roughly, desperately.

"Wot's 'appened to 'im? Wot did you 'ear? Good Gawd Dodger don't just stan' there! Tell me wot 'appened!"

Dodger had never seen Nancy so angry and yet so scared. He hated to admit, even inside his own head, how much it frightened him.

Fagin took a step forward as if to restrain Nancy from Dodger but thought better of it at the last minute, not particularly wanting to be on the receiving end of her emotional instability. He knew she could be every bit as ferocious as Bill when need be.

"He…'im an' Toby…they-"

"They wot?"

"They…they got caught."

The scream of distress and fear that issued forth from the terrified young woman before him would haunt Dodger till his dying day. Nancy abruptly let him go and sank to the floor, her body wracked with fresh sobs. Both Fagin and Dodger moved as if to comfort her or help her to her feet but she would have none of it.

Bill, her Bill, was in the clink.

And there was nothing she could do but cry.

--

"Order! Order in the court!"

The magistrate banged his gavel hard on the podium but to no avail; the crowd continued to chatter away like a million bees in a hive, speculating about the criminals to be charged or simply gossiping away like old wives.

He hated his job.

And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but love it. What other job in the world allowed you to play God with people's lives?

"For heaven's sake man!" the judge called to the clerk over the hubbub. "This trial was supposed to start five minutes ago."

"I'm sorry sir. Apparently the prisoners refuse to come quietly."

It was all the magistrate could do to stop himself putting his head in his hands and yelling something uncouth.

--

The route to the courthouse had not been an easy one to take for any of the party involved; the prisoners struggling madly to escape or the policemen keeping them detained. That wasn't to mention the large variety of colourful words (and both parties' collections of colourful bruises). But, at long last, the court was reached.

Bill couldn't remember feeling this angry; this scared, in his life. Even Jeremy's death couldn't compare to this; for all he knew within a week he'd be staring death in the face. It didn't help that even now, as he was hauled into the courtroom to face the baying crowd and the beak himself that thoughts of Nancy, Fagin and the gang refused to leave him be.

Toby too was worse for the wear, his face fluctuating through various stages of pale clamminess, his usual overconfident air completely vanquished. He and Bill had put up a fight, not only against the traps but against their lesser felt emotions, but all in vain.

When both men were deposited in the dock and looking up into the cold, cruel eyes of the beak, Bill was almost certain Toby was going to faint, or at least be sick. His accomplice was literally quaking with fear, his eyes wide. Bill, for his part, kept a calm outward façade, but inside…inside he was screaming.

"Order! I will have order!" bellowed the magistrate, at last losing his temper (which did not bode at all well for the men in the dock before him). "What are these two charged with?"

At long last the crowd fell relatively silent, all eager to watch the trail unfold.

"Intention to rob the house of Stephen Morgan last night at eleven thirty, sir. Not to mention various other fully executed burglaries spanning the past few months."

The magistrate nodded, seeming pleased.

"Do we have any witnesses to the alleged crimes?"

It was from there on in that things took a turn for the worse. It seemed that all the occupants of all the houses that Bill and Toby had ever robbed, plus their servants, had come to the courthouse that day. One servant had peached and it seemed to have spread like a fever. With each witness Bill felt his heart sink lower and lower; there was no way at all that they could escape this, the probability that they could was laughable. When the magistrate called for defence and no-one came to the stand it was painfully obvious what their fate would be.

"Do you have anything to say on your own behalf?" the magistrate enquired at length, in a tone that clearly showed he thought he was wasting his time.

Bill shook his head. There was no point trying to say anything in an attempt to prove his innocence (even if he did have something up his sleeve it was certain not to work). Toby seemed surprised yet understanding at Bill's lack of speech; he too could think of nothing to say and so kept his mouth shut.

The magistrate had been expecting some sort of threat but nothing at all came from the two prisoners. Somewhat shocked but pleased nonetheless, he proceeded to pass sentence.

Despite the fact that Bill and Toby hadn't succeeded in getting into the house the previous night, they had raided plenty before, enough to put them both away for a very long time. And so it came to pass that Bill Sykes and Toby Crackit were sentenced to eighteen months in Newgate prison…eighteen months with hard labour.

--

A/N: Once again it's been far too long since I worked on this. Oliver! Rehearsals are well underway, plus tons of work in preparation for our upcoming IGCSE mocks…bleh. Hopefully I'll be able to update more soon (no promises though!). Here's hoping you are continuing to enjoy this story my dears! C: Please R it would make me oh so happy. ^^