oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第39部分

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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　matron；　setting　it　down　very　
hastily　on　the　hob；　“a　little　stupid　thing；　that　only　holds　a　couple　of　
cups！　What　use　is　it　of；　to　anybody！　Except；”　said　Mrs。　Corney；　
pausing—“except　to　a　poor；　desolate　creature　like　me。　Oh；　dear！”　

With　these　words；　the　matron　dropped　into　her　chair；　and；　once　
more　resting　her　elbow　on　the　table；　thought　of　her　solitary　fate。　
The　small　teapot；　and　the　single　cup；　had　awakened　in　her　mind　
sad　recollections　of　Mr。　Corney　（who　had　not　been　dead　more　than　
five…and…twenty　years）；　and　she　was　overpowered。　

“I　shall　never　get　another！”　said　Mrs。　Corney　pettishly；　“I　shall　
never　get　another—like　him。”　

Whether　this　remark　bore　reference　to　the　husband；　or　the　
teapot；　is　uncertain。　It　might　have　been　the　latter；　for　Mrs。　Corney　
looked　at　it　as　she　spoke；　and　took　it　up　afterwards。　She　had　just　
tasted　her　first　cup；　when　she　was　disturbed　by　a　soft　tap　at　the　

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room　door。　

“Oh；　come　in　with　you！”　said　Mrs。　Corney　sharply。　“Some　of　the　
old　women　dying；　I　suppose。　They　always　die　when　I’m　at　meals。　
Don’t　stand　there；　letting　the　cold　air　in；　don’t。　What’s　amiss　now；　
eh？”　

“Nothing；　ma’am；　nothing；”　replied　a　man’s　voice。　

“Dear　me！”　exclaimed　the　matron；　in　a　much　sweeter　tone；　“is　
that　Mr。　Bumble？”　

“At　your　service；　ma’am；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　who　had　been　
stopping　outside　to　rub　his　shoes　clean；　and　to　shake　the　snow　off　
his　coat：　and　who　now　made　his　appearance；　bearing　the　cocked　
hat　in　one　hand　and　a　bundle　in　the　other。　“Shall　I　shut　the　door；　
ma’am？”　

The　lady　modestly　hesitated　to　reply；　lest　there　should　be　any　
impropriety　in　holding　an　interview　with　Mr。　Bumble；　with　closed　
doors。　Mr。　Bumble　taking　advantage　of　the　hesitation；　and　being　
very　cold　himself；　shut　it　without　permission。　

“Hard　weather；　Mr。　Bumble；”　said　the　matron。　

“Hard；　indeed；　ma’am；”　replied　the　beadle。　“Anti…parochial　
weather；　this；　ma’am。　We　have　given　away；　Mrs。　Corney；　we　have　
given　away　a　matter　of　twenty　quartern　loaves　and　a　cheese　and　a　
half；　this　very　blessed　afternoon；　and　yet　them　paupers　are　not　
contented。”　

“Of　course　not。　When　would　they　be；　Mr。　Bumble？”　said　the　
matron；　sipping　her　tea。　

“When；　indeed；　ma’am！”　rejoined　Mr。　Bumble。　“Why；　here’s　
one　man　that；　in　consideration　of　his　wife　and　large　family；　has　a　
quartern　loaf　and　a　good　pound　of　cheese；　full　weight。　Is　he　
grateful；　ma’am？　Is　he　grateful？　Not　a　copper　farthing’s　worth　of　

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it！　What　does　he　do；　ma’am；　but　ask　for　a　few　coals；　if　it’s　only　a　
pocket…handkerchief　full；　he　says！　Coals！　What　would　he　do　with　
coals？　Toast　his　cheese　with　’em；　and　then　come　back　for　more。　
That’s　the　way　with　these　people；　ma’am；　give　’em　a　apron　full　of　
coals　today；　and　they’ll　come　back　for　another；　the　day　after　
tomorrow；　as　brazen　as　alabaster。”　

The　matron　e