“Not to do anything, but to tell me where she goes, who she sees, and, if possible, what she says; to remember the street, if it is a street, or the house, if it is a house; and to bring me back all the information you can.”
“What’ll yer give me?” asked Noah, setting down his cup, and looking his employer, eagerly, in the face.
“If you do it well, a pound, my dear. One pound,” said Fagin, wishing to interest him in the scent as much as possible. “And that’s what I never gave yet, for any job of work where there wasn’t valuable consideration to be gained.”
“Who is she?” inquired Noah.
“One of us.”
“Oh Lor!” cried Noah, curling up his nose. “Yer doubtful of her, are yer?”
“She has found out some new friends, my dear, and I must know who they are,” replied Fagin.
“I see,” said Noah. “Just to have the pleasure of knowing them, if they’re respectable people, eh? Ha! ha! ha! I’m your man.”
“I knew you would be,” cried Fagin, elated by the success of his proposal.
“Of course, of course,” replied Noah. “Where is she? Where am I to wait for her? Where am I to go?”
“All that, my dear, you shall hear from me. I’ll point her out at the proper time,” said Fagin. “You keep ready, and leave the rest to me.”
That night, and the next, and the next again, the spy sat booted and equipped in his carter’s dress: ready to turn out at a word from Fagin. Six