“Lost!” cried Fagin. “She has pretty well settled that, in her own mind, already.”

Sikes looked with an aspect of great perplexity into the Jew’s face, and reading no satisfactory explanation of the riddle there, clenched his coat collar in his huge hand and shook him soundly.

“Speak, will you!” he said; “or if you don’t, it shall be for want of breath. Open your mouth and say wot you’ve got to say in plain words. Out with it, you thundering old cur, out with it!”

“Suppose that lad that’s laying there⁠—” Fagin began.

Sikes turned round to where Noah was sleeping, as if he had not previously observed him. “Well!” he said, resuming his former position.