Chapter 15  Chapter XV Showing how very fond of Oliver Twist the
merry old Jew and Miss Nancy were.  In the obscure parlour of a
low public-house, in the filthiest part of Little Saffron Hill;
a dark and gloomy den, where a flaring gas-light burnt all day
in the winter-time; and where no ray of sun ever shone in the
summer: there sat, brooding over a little pewter measure and a
small glass, strongly impregnated with the smell of liquor, a
man in a velveteen coat, drab shorts, half boots and stockings,
who even by that dim light no experienced agent of police would
have hesitated to recognise as Mr. William Sikes. At his feet
sat a white-coated, red-eyed dog; who occupied himself,
alternately, in winking at his master with both eyes at the same
time; and in licking a large, fresh cut on one side of his
mouth, which appeared to be the result of some recent conflict.
"Keep quiet, you warmint! Keep quiet!" said Mr. Sikes, suddenly
breaking silence. Whether his meditations were so intense as to
be disturbed by the