“You haven’t opened the parcel and swallowed one or two as you come along, have you?” inquired Sikes, suspiciously. “Don’t put on an injured look at the question; you’ve done it many a time. Jerk the tinkler.”

These words, in plain English, conveyed an injunction to ring the bell. It was answered by another Jew: younger than Fagin, but nearly as vile and repulsive in appearance.

Bill Sikes merely pointed to the empty measure. The Jew, perfectly understanding the hint, retired to fill it: previously exchanging a remarkable look with Fagin, who raised his eyes for an instant, as if in expectation of it, and shook his head in reply; so slightly that the action would have been almost imperceptible to an observant third person. It was lost upon Sikes, who was stooping at the moment to tie the bootlace which the dog had torn. Possibly, if he had observed the brief interchange of signals, he might have thought that it boded no good to him.