Fagin nodded in the affirmative. Pointing in the direction of Saffron Hill, he inquired whether anyone was up yonder tonight.

“At the Cripples?” inquired the man.

The Jew nodded.

“Let me see,” pursued the merchant, reflecting. “Yes, there’s some half-dozen of ’em gone in, that I knows. I don’t think your friend’s there.”

“Sikes is not, I suppose?” inquired the Jew, with a disappointed countenance.

“ Non istwentus , as the lawyers say,” replied the little man, shaking his head, and looking amazingly sly. “Have you got anything in my line tonight?”

“Nothing tonight,” said the Jew, turning away.