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 to-night ?' 'Nothing to-night,' said the Jew, turning away.
'Are you going up to the Cripples, Fagin ?' cried the little man, calling after him.

'Stop! I don't mind if I have a drop there with you!' But as the Jew, looking back, waved his hand to intimate that he preferred being alone; and, moreover, as the little man could not very easily disengage himself from the chair; the sign of the Cripples was, for a time, bereft of the advantage of Mr.Lively's presence.

By the time he had got upon his legs, the Jew had disappeared; so Mr.Lively, after ineffectually standing on tiptoe, in the hope of catching sight of him, again forced himself into the little chair, and, exchanging a shake of the head with a lady in the opposite shop, in which doubt and mistrust were plainly mingled, resumed his pipe with a grave demeanour.
The Three Cripples, or rather the Cripples; which was the sign by which the establishment was familiarly known to its patrons: was the public-house in which Mr.Sikes and his dog have already figured.
Merely making a sign to a man at the bar, Fagin walked straight upstairs, and opening the door of a room, and softly insinuating himself into the chamber, looked anxiously about: shading his eyes with his hand, as if in search of some particular person.
The room was illuminated by two gas-lights; the glare of which was prevented by the barred shutters, and closely-drawn curtains of faded red, from being visible outside.

The ceiling was blackened, to prevent its colour from being injured by the flaring of the lamps; and the place was so full of dense tobacco smoke, that at first it was scarcely possible to discern anything more.