“Ay, that he shall,” replied Fagin, “and we’ll have a bigwig, Charley: one that’s got the greatest gift of the gab: to carry on his defence; and he shall make a speech for himself too, if he likes; and we’ll read it all in the papers⁠—‘Artful Dodger⁠—shrieks of laughter⁠—here the court was convulsed’⁠—eh, Charley, eh?”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Master Bates, “what a lark that would be, wouldn’t it, Fagin? I say, how the Artful would bother ’em, wouldn’t he?”

“Would!” cried Fagin. “He shall⁠—he will!”

“Ah, to be sure, so he will,” repeated Charley, rubbing his hands.

“I think I see him now,” cried the Jew, bending his eyes upon his pupil.