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arms； inclined his head in a retrospective manner； and； after a few
moments’ reflection； commenced his story。
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It would be tedious if given in the beadle’s words； occupying as
it did； some twenty minutes in the telling； but the sum and
substance of it was； That Oliver was a foundling； born of low and
vicious parents。 That he had； from his birth； displayed no better
qualities than treachery； ingratitude； and malice。 That he had
terminated his brief career in the place of his birth； by making a
sanguinary and cowardly attack on an unoffending lad； and
running away in the night…time from his master’s house。 In proof
of his really being the person he represented himself； Mr。 Bumble
laid upon the table the papers he had brought to town； and folding
his arms again； awaited Mr。 Brownlow’s observations。
“I fear it is all too true；” said the old gentleman sorrowfully；
after looking over the papers。 “This is not much for your
intelligence； but I would gladly have given you treble the money； if
it had been favourable to the boy。”
It is not improbable that if Mr。 Bumble had been possessed of
this information at an earlier period of the interview； he might
have imparted a very different colouring to his little history。 It was
too late to do it now； however； so he shook his head gravely； and；
pocketing the five guineas； withdrew。
Mr。 Brownlow paced the room to and fro for some minutes；
evidently so much disturbed by the beadle’s tale； that even Mr。
Grimwig forbore to vex him further。
At length he stopped； and rang the bell violently。
“Mrs。 Bedwin；” said Mr。 Brownlow； when the housekeeper
appeared； “that boy； Oliver； is an impostor。”
“It can’t be； sir。 It cannot be；” said the old lady energetically。
“I tell you he is；” retorted the old gentleman。 “What do you
mean by can’t be？ We have just heard a full account of him from
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his birth； and he has been a thorough…paced little villain； all his
life。”
“I never will believe it； sir；” replied the old lady firmly。 “Never！”
“You old women never believe anything but quack…doctors； and
lying story…books；” growled Mr。 Grimwig。 “I knew it all along。 Why
didn’t you take my advice in the beginning； you would； if he hadn’t
had a fever； I suppose； eh？ He was interesting； wasn’t he？
Interesting！ Bah！” And Mr。 Grimwig poked the fire with a flourish。
“He was a dear； grateful； gentle child； sir；” retorted Mrs。
Bedwin indignantly。 “I know what children are； sir； and have done
these forty years； and people who can’t say the same； shouldn’t say
anything about them。 That’s my opinion！”
This was a hard hit at Mr。 Grimwig； who was a bachelor。 As it
extorted nothing from that gentleman but a smile； the old lady
tossed her head； and smoothed down her apron preparatory to
another speech； when she was stopped by Mr。 Brownlow。
“Silence！” said the old gentleman； feigning an anger he was far
from feeling。 “Never let me hear the boy’s name again。 I rang to
tell you that。 Never。 Never； on any pretence； mind！ You may leave
the room； Mrs。 Bedwin。 Remember！ I am in earnest。”
There were sad hearts at Mr。 Brownlow’s that night。
Oliver’s heart sank within him； when he thought of his good
kind friends； it was well for him that he could not know what they
had heard； or it might have broken outright。
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Chapter 18
How Oliver Passed His Time In The Improving
Society Of His Reputable Friends。
About noon next day； when the Dodger and Master Bates
had gone out to pursue their customary avocations； Mr。
Fagin took the opportunity of reading Oliver a long
lecture on the crying sin of ingratitude； of which he clearly
demonstrated he had been guilty； to no ordinary extent； in wilfully
absenting himself from the society of his anxious friends； and； still
more； in endeavouring to escape from them after so much trouble
and expense had been incurred in his recovery。 Mr。 Fagin laid
great stress on the fact of his having taken Oliver in； and cherished
him； when； without his timely aid； he might have perished with
hunger； and he related the dismal and affecting history of a young
lad whom； in his philanthropy； he had succoured under parallel
circumstances； but who； proving unworthy of his confidence and
evincing a desire to communicate with the police； had
unfortunately come to be hanged at the Old Bailey one morning。
Mr。 Fagin did not seek to conceal his share in the catastrophe； but
lamented； with tears in his eyes； that the wrong…headed and
treacherous behaviour of the young person in question； had
rendered it necessary that he should become the victim of certain
evidence for the Crown； which； if it were not precisely true； was
indispensably necessary for the safety of him （Mr。 Fagin） and a
few select friends。 Mr。 Fagin concluded by drawing a rather
disagreeable picture of the discomforts of hanging； and； with great
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friendliness and politeness of manner； expressed his anxious
hopes that he might never be obliged to submit Oliver Twist to
that unpleasant operation。
Little Oliver’s blood ran cold； as he listened to the Jew’s words；
and imperfectly comprehended the dark threats conveyed in
them。 That it was possible even for justice itself to confound the
innocent with the guilty when they were in accidental
companionship； he knew already； and that deeply…laid plans for
the destruction of inconveniently knowing or over…communicative
persons； had been really devised and carried out by the old Jew on
more occasions than one； he thought by no means unlikely； when
he recollected the general nature of the altercations between that
gentleman and Mr。 Sikes： which seemed to bear reference to some
foregone conspiracy of the kind。 As he glanced timidly up； and met
the Jew’s searching look； he felt that his pale face and trembling
limbs were neither unnoticed nor unrelished by that wary old
gentleman。
The Jew smiled hideously； and patting Oliver on the head； said；
that if he kept himself quiet； and applied himself to business； he
saw they would be very good friends yet。 Then； taking his hat； and
covering himself with an old patched greatcoat； he went out； and
locked the room door behind him。
And so Oliver remained all that day； and for the greater part of
many subsequent days； seeing nobody； between early morning
and midnight； and left during the long hours to commune with his
own thoughts： which； never failing to revert to his kind friends；
and the opinion they must long ago have formed of him； were sad
indeed。
After the lapse of a week or so； the Jew left the room door
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unlocked； and he was at liberty to wander about the house。
It was a very dirty place。 The rooms upstairs had great high
wooden chimney…pieces and large doors； with panelled walls； and
cornices to the ceilings； which； although they were black with
neglect and dust； were ornamented in various ways； from all of
these tokens Oliver concluded that a long time ago； before the old
Jew was born； it had belonged to better people； and had perhaps
been quite gay and handsome； dismal and dreary as it looked now。
Spiders had built their webs in the angles of the walls and
ceilings； and sometimes； when Oliver walked softly into a room；
the mice would scamper across the floor； and run back； terrified；
to their holes。 With these exceptions； there was neither sight nor
sound of any living thing； and often； when it grew dark； and he
was tired of wandering from room to room； he would crouch in the
corner of the passage by the street door； to be as near living people
as he could； and would remain there； listening and counting the
hours； until the Jew or the boys returned In all the rooms； the
mouldering shutters were fast closed； the bars which held them
were screwed tight into the wood； the only light which was
admitted； stealing its way through round holes at the top； which
made the rooms more gloomy； and filled them with strange
shadows。 There was a back…garret window with rusty bars outside
which had no shutter； and out of this； Oliver often gazed with a
melancholy face for hours together； but nothing was to be
described from it but a confused and crowded mass of house…tops；
blackened chimneys； and gable…ends。 Sometimes； indeed； a grizzly
head might be seen； peering over a parapet…wall of a distant
house： but it was quickly withdrawn again； and as the window of
Oliver’s observation was nailed down； and dimmed with the rain
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and smoke of years； it was as much as he could do to make out the
forms of the different objects beyond； without making any attempt
to be seen or heard—which he had as much chance of being； as if
he had lived inside the ball of St。 Paul’s Cathedral。
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