oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第65部分

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withdrawing　his　eyes；　observed　that　it　was　no　great　matter。　With　
that　he　rose；　as　if　to　depart。　

But　Mr。　Bumble　was　cunning　enough；　and　he　at　once　saw　that　
an　opportunity　was　opened；　for　the　lucrative　disposal　of　some　
secret　in　the　possession　of　his　better　half。　He　well　remembered　the　
night　of　old　Sally’s　death；　which　the　occurrences　of　that　day　had　
given　him　good　reason　to　recollect；　as　the　occasion　on　which　he　
had　proposed　to　Mrs。　Corney；　and　although　that　lady　had　never　
confided　to　him　the　disclosure　of　which　she　had　been　the　solitary　
witness；　he　had　heard　enough　to　know　that　it　related　to　something　
that　had　occurred　in　the　old　woman’s　attendance；　as　workhouse　
nurse；　upon　the　young　mother　of　Oliver　Twist。　Hastily　calling　this　

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circumstance　to　mind；　he　informed　the　stranger；　with　an　air　of　
mystery；　that　one　woman　had　been　closeted　with　the　old　harridan　
shortly　before　she　died；　and　that　she　could；　as　he　had　reason　to　
believe；　throw　some　light　on　the　subject　of　his　inquiry。　

“How　can　I　find　her？”　said　the　stranger；　thrown　off　his　guard；　
and　plainly　showing　that　all　his　fears　（whatever　they　were）　were　
aroused　afresh　by　the　intelligence。　

“Only　through　me；”　rejoined　Mr。　Bumble。　

“When？”　cried　the　stranger　hastily。　

“Tomorrow；”　rejoined　Bumble。　

“At　nine　in　the　evening；”　said　the　stranger；　producing　a　scrap　of　
paper；　and　writing　down　upon　it；　an　obscure　address　by　the　waterside；　in　characters　that　betrayed　his　agitation；　“at　nine　in　the　
evening；　bring　her　to　me　there。　I　needn’t　tell　you　to　be　secret。　It’s　
your　interest。”　

With　these　words；　he　led　the　way　to　the　door；　after　stopping　to　
pay　for　the　liquor　that　had　been　drunk。　Shortly　remarking　that　
their　roads　were　different；　he　departed　without　more　ceremony　
than　an　emphatic　repetition　of　the　hour　of　appointment　for　the　
following　night。　

On　glancing　at　the　address；　the　parochial　functionary　observed　
that　it　contained　no　name。　The　stranger　had　not　gone　far；　so　he　
made　after　him　to　ask　it。　

“What　do　you　want；”　cried　the　man；　turning　quickly　round；　as　
Bumble　touched　him　on　the　arm；　“following　me？”　

“Only　to　ask　a　question；”　said　the　other；　pointing　to　the　scrap　of　
paper。　“What　name　am　I　to　ask　for？”　

“Monks！”　rejoined　the　man；　and　strode　hastily　away。　

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Chapter　38　

Containing　An　Account　Of　What　Passed　Between
Mr。　And　Mrs。　Bumble；　And　Mr。　Monks；　At　Their
Nocturnal　Interview。


It　was　a　dull；　close；　overcast　summer　evening。　The　clouds；　
which　had　been　threatening　all　day；　spread　out　in　a　dense　and　
sluggish　mass　of　vapour；　already　yielded　large　drops　of　rain；　
and　seemed　to　presage　a　violent　thunder…storm；　when　Mr。　and　
Mrs。　Bumble；　turning　out　of　the　main　street　of　the　town；　directed　
their　course　towards　a　scattered　little　colony　of　ruinous　houses；　
distant　from　it　some　miles　and　a　half；　or　thereabouts；　and　erected　
on　a　low；　unwholesome　swamp；　bordering　upon　the　river。　

They　were　both　wrapped　in　old　and　shabby　outer　garments；　
which　might；　perhaps；　serve　the　double　purpose　of　protecting　
their　persons　from　the　rain；　and　sheltering　them　from　observation。　
The　husband　carried　a　lantern；　from　which；　however；　no　light　yet　
shone；　and　trudged　a　few　paces　in　front　as　though—the　way　being　
dirty—to　give　his　wife　the　benefit　of　treading　in　his　heavy　
footprints。　They　went　on；　in　profound　silence；　every　now　and　then；　
Mr。　Bumble　relaxed　his　pace；　and　turned　his　head　as　if　to　make　
sure　that　his　helpmate　was　following；　then；　discovering　that　she　
was　close　at　his　heels　he　mended　his　rate　of　walking；　and　
proceeded；　at　a　considerable　increase　of　speed；　towards　their　place　
of　destination。　

This　was　far　from　being　a　place　of　doubtful　character；　for　it　had　
long　been　known　as　the　residence　of　none　but　low　ruffians；　who；　

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under　various　pretences　of　living　by　their　labour；　subsisted　chiefly　
on　plunder　and　crime。　It　was　a　collection　of　mere　hovels—some；　
hastily　built　with　loose　bricks；　others；　of　old　worm…eaten　ship…
timber　jumbled　together　without　any　attempt　at　order　or　
arrangement；　and　planted；　for　the　most　part；　within　a　few　feet　of　
the　river’s　bank。　A　few　leaky　boats　drawn　up　on　the　mud；　and　
made　fast　to　the　dwarf　wall　which　skirted　it；　and　here　and　there　an　
oar　or　coil　of　rope；　appeared；　at　first；　to　indicate　that　the　
inhabitants　of　these　miserable　cottages　pursued　some　avocation　
on　the　river；　but　a　glance　at　the　shattered　and　useless　condition　of　
the　articles　thus　displayed；　would　have　led　a　passer…by；　without　
much　difficulty；　to　the　conjecture　that　they　were　disposed　there；　
rather　for　the　preservation　of　appearances；　than　with　any　view　of　
their　being　actually　employed。　

In　the　heart　of　this　cluster　of　huts；　and　skirting　the　river；　which　
its　upper　storey　overhung；　stood　a　large　building；　formerly　used　as　
a　manufactory　of　some　kind。　It　had；　in　its　day；　probably　furnished　
employment　to　the　inhabitants　of　the　surrounding　tenements。　But　
it　had　long　since　gone　to　ruin。　The　rat；　the　worm；　and　the　action　of　
the　damp；　had　weakened　and　rotted　the　piles　on　which　it　stood；　
and　a　considerable　portion　of　the　building　had　already　sunk　down　
into　the　water；　while　the　remainder；　tottering　and　bending　over　
the　dark　stream；　seemed　to　wait　a　favourable　opportunity　of　
following　its　old　companion；　and　involving　itself　in　the　same　fate。　

It　was　before　this　ruinous　building　that　the　worthy　couple　
paused；　as　the　first　peal　of　distant　thunder　reverberated　in　the　air；　
and　the　rain　commenced　pouring　violently　down。　

“The　place　should　be　somewhere　here；”　said　Bumble；　
consulting　a　scrap　of　paper　he　held　in　his　hand。　

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“Hollo；　there！”　cried　a　voice　from　above。　

Following　the　sound；　Mr。　Bumble　raised　his　head；　and　descried　
a　man　looking　out　of　a　door；　breast…high；　on　the　second　storey。　
“Stand　still　a　minute；”　cried　the　voice；　“I’ll　be　with　you　directly。”　
With　which　the　head　disappeared；　and　the　door　closed。　

“Is　that　the　man？”　asked　Mr。　Bumble’s　good　lady。　

Mr。　Bumble　nodded　in　the　affirmative。　

“Then；　mind　what　I　told　you；”　said　the　matron；　“and　be　careful　
to　say　as　little　as　you　can；　or　you’ll　betray　us　at　once。”　

Mr。　Bumble；　who　had　eyed　the　building　with　very　rueful　looks；　
was　apparently　about　to　express　some　doubts　relative　to　the　
advisability　of　proceeding　any　further　with　the　enterprise　just　
then；　when　he　was　prevented　by　the　appearance　of　Monks；　who　
opened　a　small　door；　near　which　they　stood；　and　beckoned　them　
inwards。　

“Come　in！”　he　cried　impatiently；　stamping　his　foot　upon　the　
ground。　“Don’t　keep　me　here！”　

The　woman；　who　had　hesitated　at　first；　walked　boldly　in；　
without　any　other　invitation。　Mr。　Bumble；　who　was　ashamed　or　
afraid　to　lay　behind；　followed；　obviously　very　ill　at　ease　and　with　
scarcely　any　of　that　remarkable　dignity　which　was　usually　his　chief　
characteristic。　

“What　the　devil　made　you　stand　lingering　there；　in　the　wet？”　
said　Monks；　turning　round；　and　addressing　Bumble；　after　he　had　
bolted　the　door　behind　them。　

“We—we　were　only　cooling　ourselves；”　stammered　Bumble；　
looking　apprehensively　about　him。　

“Cooling　yourselves！”　retorted　Monks。　“Not　all　the　rain　that　
ever　fell；　or　ever　will　fall；　will　put　as　much　of　hell’s　fire　out；　as　a　

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man　can　carry　about　with　him。　You　won’t　cool　yourself　so　easily；　
don’t　think　it！”　

With　this　agreeable　speech；　Monks　turned　short　upon　the　
matron；　and　bent　his　gaze　upon　her；　till　even　she；　who　was　not　
easily　cowed；　was　fain　to　withdraw　her　eyes；　and　turn　them　
towards　the　ground。　

“This　is　the　woman；　is　it？”　demanded　Monks。　

“Hem！　That　is　the　woman；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　mindful　of　his　
wife’s　caution。　

“You　think　women　never　can　keep　secrets；　I　suppose？”　said　the　
matron；　interposing；　and　returning；　as　she　spoke；　the　searching　
look　of　Monks。　

“I　know　they　will　always　keep　one　till　it’s　found　out；”　said　
Monks。　

“And　what　may　that　be？”　asked　the　matron。　

“The　loss　of　their　own　name；”　replied　Monks。　“So；　by　the　same　
rule；　if　a　woman’s　a　party　to　a　secret　that　might　hang　or　transport　
her；　I’m　not　afraid　of　her　telling　it　to　anybody；　not　I！　Do　you　
understand；　mistress？”　

“No；”　rejoined　the　matron；　slightly　colouring　as　she　spoke。　

“Of　course　you　don’t！”　said　Monks。　“How　should　you？”　

Bestowing　something　half…way　between　a　smile　and　a　frown　
upon　his　two　companions；　and　again　beckoning　them　to　follow　
him；　the　man　hastened　across　the　apartment；　which　was　of　
considerable　extent；　but　low　in　the　roof。　He　was　preparing　to　
ascend　a　steep　staircase；　or　rather　ladder；　leading　to　another　floor　
of　warehouses　above；　when　a　bright　flash　of　lightning　streamed　
down　the　aperture；　and　a　peal　of　thunder　followed；　which　shook　
the　crazy　building　to　its　centre。　

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“Hear　it！”　he　cried；　shrinking　back。　“Hear　it！　Rolling　and　
crashing　on　as　if　it　echoed　through　a　thousand　caverns　where　the　
devils　were　hiding　from　it。　I　hate　the　sound！”　He　remained　silent　
for　a　few　moments；　and　then；　removing　his　hands　suddenly　from　
his　face；　showed；　to　the　unspeakable　discomposure　of　Mr。　Bumble；　
that　it　was　much　distorted；　and　discoloured。　

“These　fits　come　over　me；　now　and　then；”　said　Monks；　
observing　his　alarm；　“and　thunder　sometimes　brings　them　on。　
Don’t　mind　me　now；　it’s　all　over　for　this　once。”　

Thus　speaking；　he　led　the　way　up　the　ladder；　and　hastily　closing　
the　window…shutter　of　the　room　into　which　it　led；　lowered　a　
lantern　which　hung　at　the　end　of　a　rope　and　pulley　passed　through　
one　of　the　heavy　beams　in　the　ceiling；　and　which　cast　a　dim　light　
upon　an　old　table　and　three　chairs　that　were　placed　beneath　it。　

“Now；”　said　Monks；　when　they　had　all　three　seated　themselves；　
“the　sooner　we　come　to　our　business；　the　better　f