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But there was nobody abroad。 They had cleared the town; as the
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church bell struck two。
Quickening their pace; they turned up a road upon the left
hand。 After walking about a quarter of a mile; they stopped before
a detached house surrounded by a wall; to the top of which; Toby
Crackit; scarcely pausing to take breath; climbed in a twinkling。
“The boy next;” said Toby。 “Hoist him up; I’ll catch hold of
him。”
Before Oliver had time to look round; Sikes had caught him
under the arms; and in three or four seconds he and Toby were
lying on the grass on the other side。 Sikes followed directly。 And
they stole cautiously towards the house。
And now; for the first time; Oliver; well…nigh mad with grief and
terror; saw that housebreaking and robbery; if not murder; were
the objects of the expedition。 He clasped his hands together; and
involuntarily uttered a subdued exclamation of horror。 A mist
came before his eyes; the cold sweat stood upon his ashy face; his
limbs failed him; and he sank upon his knees。
“Get up!” murmured Sikes; trembling with rage; and drawing
the pistol from his pocket; “get up; or I’ll strew your brains upon
the grass。”
“Oh! for God’s sake let me go!” cried Oliver; “let me run away
and die in the fields。 I will never come near London; never; never!
Oh! pray have mercy on me; and do not make me steal。 For the
love of all the bright angels that rest in heaven; have mercy upon
me!”
The man to whom this appeal was made; swore a dreadful oath;
and had cocked the pistol; when Toby; striking it from his grasp;
placed his hand upon the boy’s mouth; and dragged him to the
house。
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“Hush!” cried the man; “it won’t answer here。 Say another
word; and I’ll do your business myself with a crack on the head。
That makes no noise; and is quite as certain; and more genteel。
Here; Bill; wrench the shutter open。 He’s game enough now; I’ll
engage。 I’ve seen older hands of his age took the same way; for a
minute or two; on a cold night。”
Sikes; invoking terrific imprecations upon Fagin’s head for
sending Oliver on such an errand; plied the crowbar vigorously;
but with little noise。 After some delay; and some assistance from
Toby; the shutter to which he had referred; swung open on its
hinges。
It was a little lattice window; about five feet and a half above the
ground; at the back of the house; which belonged to a scullery; or
small brewing…place; at the end of the passage。 The aperture was
so small; that the inmates had probably not thought it worth while
to defend it more securely; but it was large enough to admit a boy
of Oliver’s size nevertheless。 A very brief exercise of Mr。 Sikes’s
art sufficed to overcome the fastening of the lattice; and it soon
stood wide open also。
“Now listen; you young limb;” whispered Sikes; drawing a dark
lamp from his pocket; and throwing the glare full on Oliver’s face;
“I’m a…going to put you through there。 Take this light; go softly up
the steps straight afore you; and along the little hall; to the street
door; unfasten it; and let us in。”
“There’s a bolt at the top; you won’t be able to reach;”
interposed Toby。 “Stand upon one of the hall chairs。 There are
three there; Bill; with a jolly large blue unicorn and gold pitchfork
on ’em; which is the old lady’s arms。”
“Keep quiet; can’t you?” replied Sikes; with a threatening look。
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“The room door is open; is it?”
“Wide;” replied Toby; after peeping into to satisfy himself。
“That game of that is; that they always leave it open with a catch;
so that the dog; who’s got a bed in here; may walk up and down
the passage when he feels wakeful。 Ha! ha! Barney ‘ticed him
away tonight。 So neat!”
Although Mr。 Crackit spoke in a scarcely audible whisper; and
laughed without noise; Sikes imperiously commanded him to be
silent; and to get to work。 Toby complied; by first producing his
lantern; and placing it on the ground; and then by planting himself
firmly with his head against the wall beneath the window; and his
hands upon his knees; so as to make a step of his back。 This was
no sooner done; than Sikes; mounting upon him; put Oliver gently
through the window with his feet first; and; without leaving hold of
his collar; planted him safely on the floor inside。
“Take this lantern;” said Sikes; looking into the room。 “You see
the stairs afore you?”
Oliver; more dead than alive; gasped out; “Yes。” Sikes; pointing
to the street door with the pistol barrel; briefly advised him to take
notice that he was within shot all the way; and that if he faltered;
he would fall dead that instant。
“It’s done in a minute;” said Sikes; in the same low whisper。
“Directly I leave go of you; do your work。 Hark!”
“What’s that?” whispered the other man。
They listened intently。
“Nothing;” said Sikes; releasing his hold of Oliver。 “Now!”
In the short time he had had to collect his senses; the boy had
firmly resolved that; whether he died in the attempt or not; he
would make one effort to dart upstairs from the hall; and alarm
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the family。 Filled with this idea; he advanced at once; but
stealthily。
“Come back!” suddenly cried Sikes aloud。 “Back! back!”
Scared by the sudden breaking of the dead stillness of the
place; and by a loud cry which followed it; Oliver let his lantern
fall; and knew not whether to advance or fly。
The cry was repeated—a light appeared—a vision of two
terrified; half…dressed men at the top of the stairs swam before his
eyes—a flash—a loud noise—a smoke—a crash somewhere; but
where he knew not—and he staggered back。
Sikes had disappeared for an instant; but he was up again; and
had him by the collar before the smoke had cleared away。 He fired
his own pistol after the men; who were already retreating; and
dragged the boy up。
“Clasp your arm tighter;” said Sikes; as he drew him through
the window。 “Give me a shawl here。 They’ve hit him。 Quick!
Damnation; how the boy bleeds!”
Then came the loud ringing of a bell; mingled with the noise of
firearms; and the shouts of men; and the sensation of being carried
over uneven ground at a rapid pace。 And then; the noises grew
confused in the distance; and a cold; deadly feeling crept over the
boy’s heart; and he saw or heard no more。
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Chapter 23
Which Contains The Substance Of A Pleasant
Conversation Between Mr。 Bumble And A Lady;
And Shows That Even A Beadle May Be
Susceptible On Some Points。
The night was bitter cold。 The snow lay on the ground;
frozen into a hard thick crust; so that only the heaps that
had drifted into byways and corners were affected by the
sharp wind that howled abroad; which; as if expending increased
fury on such prey as it found; caught it savagely up in clouds; and;
whirling it into a thousand misty eddies; scattered it in air。 Bleak;
dark; and piercing cold; it was a night for the well…housed and fed
to draw round the bright fire and thank God they were at home;
and for the homeless; starving wretch to lay him down and die。
Many hunger…worn outcasts close their eyes in our bare streets; at
such times; who; let their crimes have been what they may; can
hardly open them in a more bitter world。
Such was the aspect of out…of…doors affairs; when Mrs。 Corney;
the matron of the workhouse to which our readers have been
already introduced as the birthplace of Oliver Twist; sat herself
down before a cheerful fire in her own little room; and glanced;
with no small degree of complacency; at a small; round table; on
which stood a tray of corresponding size; furnished with all
necessary materials for the most grateful meal that matrons enjoy。
In fact; Mrs。 Corney was about to solace herself with a cup of tea。
As she glanced from the table to the fireplace; where the smallest
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of all possible kettles was singing a small song in a small voice; her
inward satisfaction evidently increased—so much so; indeed; that
Mrs。 Corney smiled。
“Well!” said the matron; leaning her elbow on the table; and
looking reflectively at the fire; “I’m sure we have all on us a great
deal to be grateful for! A great deal; if we did but know it。 Ah!”
Mrs。 Corney shook her head mournfully; as if deploring he
mental blindness of those paupers who did not know it; and
thrusting a silver spoon (private property) into the inmost recesses
of a two…ounce tin tea…caddy; proceeded to make the tea。
How slight a thing will disturb the equanimity of our frail
minds! The black teapot; being very small and easily filled; ran
over while Mrs。 Corney was moralising; and the water slightly
scalded Mrs。 Corney’s hand。
“Drat the pot!” said the worthy matro