A noise, as if a sash window were gently raised, was heard; and soon afterwards the door softly opened.

Mr.Sikes then seized the terrified boy by the collar with very little ceremony; and all three were quickly inside the house.
The passage was perfectly dark.

They waited, while the person who had let them in, chained and barred the door.
'Anybody here ?' inquired Sikes.
'No,' replied a voice, which Oliver thought he had heard before.
'Is the old 'un here ?' asked the robber.
'Yes,' replied the voice, 'and precious down in the mouth he has been.
Won't he be glad to see you?
Oh, no!' The style of this reply, as well as the voice which delivered it, seemed familiar to Oliver's ears: but it was impossible to distinguish even the form of the speaker in the darkness.
'Let's have a glim,' said Sikes, 'or we shall go breaking our necks, or treading on the dog.

Look after your legs if you do!' 'Stand still a moment, and I'll get you one,' replied the voice.

The receding footsteps of the speaker were heard; and, in another minute, the form of Mr.John Dawkins, otherwise the Artful Dodger, appeared.
He bore in his right hand a tallow candle stuck in the end of a cleft stick.
The young gentleman did not stop to bestow any other mark of recognition upon Oliver than a humourous grin; but, turning away, beckoned the visitors to follow him down a flight of stairs.