e other man, with a look
of terror, and clasping the Jew's arm with trembling hands. 'Mind
that. Fagin! I had no hand in it. Anything but his death, I told you
from the first. I won't shed blood; it's always found out, and haunts
a man besides. If they shot him dead, I was not the cause; do you hear
me? Fire this infernal den! What's that?'

'What!' cried the Jew, grasping the coward round the body, with both
arms, as he sprung to his feet. 'Where?'

'Yonder! replied the man, glaring at the opposite wall. 'The shadow!
I saw the shadow of a woman, in a cloak and bonnet, pass along the
wainscot like a breath!'

The Jew released his hold, and they rushed tumultuously from the room.
The candle, wasted by the draught, was standing where it had been
placed. It showed them only the empty staircase, and their own white
faces. They listened intently: a profound silence reigned throughout
the house.

'It's your fancy,' said the Jew, taking up the light and turning to his
companion.

'I'll swear I saw it!' replied Monks, trembling. 'It was bending
forward when I saw it first; and when I spoke, it darted away.'

The Jew glanced contemptuously at the pale face of his associate, and,
telling him he could follow, if he pleased, ascended the stairs. They
looked into all the rooms; they were cold, bare, and empty. They
descended into the passage, and thence into the cellars below. The
green damp hung upon the low walls; the tracks of the snail and slug
glistened in the light of the candle; but all was still as death.

'What do you think now?' said the Jew, when they had regained the
passage. 'Besides ourselves, there's not a creature in the house
except Toby and the boys; and they're safe enough. See here!'

As a proof of the fact, the Jew drew forth two keys from his pocket;
and explained, that when he first went downstairs, he had locked them
in, to prevent any intrusion on the conference.

This accumulated testimony effectually staggered Mr. Monks. His
protestations had gradually become less and less vehement as they
proceeded in their search without making any discovery; and, now, he
gave vent to several very grim laughs, and confessed it could only have
been his excited imagination. He declined any renewal of the
conversation, however, for that night: suddenly remembering that it
was past one o'clock. And so the amiable couple parted.

CHAPTER XXVII

ATONES FOR THE UNPOLITENESS OF A FORMER CHA