seat, he demanded to know what they wanted
there.

'Steady,' said the turnkey, still holding him down. 'Now, sir, tell
him what you want. Quick, if you please, for he grows worse as the
time gets on.'

'You have some papers,' said Mr. Brownlow advancing, 'which were placed
in your hands, for better security, by a man called Monks.'

'It's all a lie together,' replied Fagin. 'I haven't one--not one.'

'For the love of God,' said Mr. Brownlow solemnly, 'do not say that
now, upon the very verge of death; but tell me where they are. You
know that Sikes is dead; that Monks has confessed; that there is no
hope of any further gain. Where are those papers?'

'Oliver,' cried Fagin, beckoning to him. 'Here, here! Let me whisper
to you.'

'I am not afraid,' said Oliver in a low voice, as he relinquished Mr.
Brownlow's hand.

'The papers,' said Fagin, drawing Oliver towards him, 'are in a canvas
bag, in a hole a little way up the chimney in the top front-room. I
want to talk to you, my dear. I want to talk to you.'

'Yes, yes,' returned Oliver. 'Let me say a prayer. Do! Let me say
one prayer. Say only one, upon your knees, with me, and we will talk
till morning.'

'Outside, outside,' replied Fagin, pushing the boy before him towards
the door, and looking vacantly over his head. 'Say I've gone to
sleep--they'll believe you. You can get me out, if you take me so.
Now then, now then!'

'Oh! God forgive this wretched man!' cried the boy with a burst of
tears.

'That's right, that's right,' said Fagin. 'That'll help us on. This
door first. If I shake and tremble, as we pass the gallows, don't you
mind, but hurry on. Now, now, now!'

'Have you nothing else to ask him, sir?' inquired the turnkey.

'No other question,' replied Mr. Brownlow. 'If I hoped we could recall
him to a sense of his position--'

'Nothing will do that, sir,' replied the man, shaking his head. 'You
had better leave him.'

The door of the cell opened, and the attendants returned.

'Press on, press on,' cried Fagin. 'Softly, but not so slow. Faster,
faster!'

The men laid hands upon him, and disengaging Oliver from his grasp,
held him back. He struggled with the power of desperation, for an
instant; and then sent up cry upon cry that penetrated even those
massive walls, and rang in their ears until they reached the open yard.

It was some time before they left the prison. Oliver nearly swooned
after this frightful scene, and