oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第66部分

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“Now；”　said　Monks；　when　they　had　all　three　seated　themselves；　
“the　sooner　we　come　to　our　business；　the　better　for　all。　The　
woman　knows　what　it　is；　does　she？”　

The　question　was　addressed　to　Bumble；　but　his　wife　anticipated　
his　reply；　by　intimating　that　she　was　perfectly　acquainted　with　it。　

“He　is　right　in　saying　that　you　were　with　this　hag　the　night　she　
died；　and　that　she　told　you　something—”　

“About　the　mother　of　the　boy　you　named；”　replied　the　matron；　
interrupting　him。　“Yes。”　

“The　first　question　is；　of　what　nature　was　her　communication？”　
said　Monks。　

“That’s　the　second；”　observed　the　woman；　with　much　
deliberation。　“The　first　is；　what　may　the　communication　be　
worth？”　

“Who　the　devil　can　tell　that；　without　knowing　of　what　kind　it　

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is？”　asked　Monks。　

“Nobody　better　than　you；　I　am　persuaded；”　answered　Mrs。　
Bumble；　who　did　not　want　for　spirit；　as　her　yoke…fellow　could　
abundantly　testify。　

“Humph！”　said　Monks　significantly；　and　with　a　look　of　eager　
inquiry；　“there　may　be　money’s　worth　to　get；　eh？”　

“Perhaps　there　may；”　was　the　composed　reply。　

“Something　that　was　taken　from　her；”　said　Monks。　“Something　
that　she　wore。　Something　that—”　

“You　had　better　bid；”　interrupted　Mrs。　Bumble。　“I　have　heard　
enough；　already；　to　assure　me　that　you　are　the　man　I　ought　to　talk　
to。”　

Mr。　Bumble；　who　had　not　yet　been　admitted　by　his　better　half　
into　any　greater　share　of　the　secret　than　he　had　originally　
possessed；　listened　to　this　dialogue　with　outstretched　neck　and　
distended　eyes；　which　he　directed　towards　his　wife　and　Monks；　by　
turns；　in　undisguised　astonishment—increased；　if　possible；　when　
the　latter　sternly　demanded　what　sum　was　required　for　the　
disclosure。　

“What’s　it　worth　to　you？”　asked　the　woman；　as　collectedly　as　
before。　

“It　may　be　nothing；　it　may　be　twenty　pounds；”　replied　Monks。　
“Speak　out；　and　let　me　know　which。”　

“Add　five　pounds　to　the　sum　you　have　named；　give　me　five…andtwenty　pounds　in　gold；”　said　the　woman；　“and　I’ll　tell　you　all　I　
know。　Not　before。”　

“Five…and…twenty　pounds！”　exclaimed　Monks；　drawing　back。　

“I　spoke　as　plainly　as　I　could；”　replied　Mrs。　Bumble。　“It’s　not　a　
large　sum；　either。”　

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“Not　a　large　sum　for　a　paltry　secret；　that　may　be　nothing　when　
it’s　told！”　cried　Monks　impatiently；　“and　which　has　been　lying　
dead　for　twelve　years　past　or　more！”　

“Such　matters　keep　well；　and；　like　good　wine；　often　double　their　
value　in　course　of　time；”　answered　the　matron；　still　preserving　the　
resolute　indifference　she　had　assumed。　“As　to　lying　dead；　there　
are　those　who　will　lie　dead　for　twelve　thousand　years　to　come；　or　
twelve　million；　for　anything　you　or　I　know；　who　will　tell　strange　
tales　at　last！”　

“What　if　I　pay　it　for　nothing？”　asked　Monks　hesitatingly。　

“You　can　easily　take　it　away　again；”　replied　the　matron。　“I　am　
but　a　woman；　alone　here；　and　unprotected。”　

“Not　alone；　my　dear；　nor　unprotected　neither；”　submitted　Mr。　
Bumble；　in　a　voice　tremulous　with　fear；　“I　am　here；　my　dear。　And　
besides；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　his　teeth　chattering　as　he　spoke；　“Mr。　
Monks　is　too　much　of　a　gentleman　to　attempt　any　violence　on　
porochial　persons。　Mr。　Monks　is　aware　that　I　am　not　a　young　man；　
my　dear；　and　also　that　I　am　a　little　run　to　seed；　as　I　may　say；　but　he　
has　heerd—I　say　I　have　no　doubt　Mr。　Monks　has　heerd；　my　dear—　
that　I　am　a　very　determined　officer；　with　very　uncommon　
strength；　if　I’m　once　roused。　I　only　want　a　little　rousing；　that’s　all。”　

As　Mr。　Bumble　spoke；　he　made　a　melancholy　feint　of　grasping　
his　lantern　with　fierce　determination；　and　plainly　showed；　by　the　
alarmed　expression　of　every　feature；　that　he　did　want　a　little　
rousing；　and　not　a　little；　prior　to　making　any　very　warlike　
demonstration—unless；　indeed；　against　paupers；　or　other　person　
or　persons　trained　down　for　the　purpose。　

“You　are　a　fool；”　said　Mrs。　Bumble；　in　reply；　“and　had　better　
hold　your　tongue。”　

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“He　had　better　have　cut　it　out；　before　he　came；　if　he　can’t　speak　
in　a　lower　tone；”　said　Monks　grimly。　“So！　He’s　your　husband；　eh？”　

“He　my　husband！”　tittered　the　matron；　parrying　the　question。　

“I　thought　as　much；　when　you　came　in；”　rejoined　Monks；　
marking　the　angry　glance　which　the　lady　darted　at　her　spouse　as　
she　spoke。　“So　much　the　better；　I　have　less　hesitation　in　dealing　
with　two　people；　when　I　find　that　there’s　only　one　will　between　
them。　I’m　in　earnest。　See　here！”　He　thrust　his　hand　into　a　side…
pocket；　and；　producing　a　canvas　bag；　told　out　twenty…five　
sovereigns　on　the　table；　and　pushed　them　over　to　the　woman。　

“Now；”　he　said；　“gather　them　up；　and　when　this　cursed　peal　of　
thunder；　which　I　feel　is　coming　up　to　break　over　the　house…top；　is　
gone；　let’s　hear　your　story。”　

The　thunder；　which　seemed　in　fact　much　nearer　and　to　shiver　
and　break　almost　over　their　heads；　having　subsided；　Monks；　
raising　his　face　from　the　table；　bent　forward　to　listen　to　what　the　
woman　should　say。　The　faces　of　the　three　nearly　touched；　as　the　
two　men　leaned　over　the　small　table　in　their　eagerness　to　hear；　
and　the　woman　also　leaned　forward　to　render　her　whisper　audible。　
The　sickly　rays　of　the　suspended　lantern　falling　directly　upon　
them；　aggravated　the　paleness　and　anxiety　of　their　countenances；　
which；　encircled　by　the　deepest　gloom　and　darkness；　looked　
ghastly　in　the　extreme。　

“When　this　woman；　that　we　called　old　Sally；　died；”　the　matron　
began；　“she　and　I　were　alone。”　

“Was　there　no　one　by？”　asked　Monks；　in　the　same　hollow　
whisper；　“no　sick　wretch　or　idiot　in　some　other　bed？　No　one　who　
could　hear；　and　might；　by　possibility；　understand？”　

“Not　a　soul；”　replied　the　woman；　“we　were　alone。　I　stood　alone　

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beside　the　body　when　death　came　over　it。”　

“Good；”　said　Monks；　regarding　her　attentively。　“Go　on。”　

“She　spoke　of　a　young　creature；”　resumed　the　matron；　“who　
had　brought　a　child　into　the　world　some　years　before；　not　merely　
in　the　same　room；　but　in　the　same　bed；　in　which　she　then　lay　
dying。”　

‘‘Ay？”　said　Monks；　with　quivering　lip；　and　glancing　over　his　
shoulder。　“Blood！　How　things　come　about！”　

“The　child　was　the　one　you　named　to　him　last　night；”　said　the　
matron；　nodding　carelessly　towards　her　husband；　“the　mother　this　
nurse　had　robbed。”　

“In　life？”　asked　Monks。　

“In　death；”　replied　the　woman；　with　something　like　a　shudder。　
“She　stole　from　the　corpse；　when　it　had　hardly　turned　to　one；　that　
which　the　dead　mother　had　prayed　her；　with　her　last　breath；　to　
keep　for　the　infant’s　sake。”　

“She　sold　it？”　cried　Monks；　with　desperate　eagerness；　“did　she　
sell　it？　Where！　When？　To　whom？　How　long　before？”　

“As　she　told　me；　with　great　difficulty；　that　she　had　done　this；”　
said　the　matron；　“she　fell　back　and　died。”　

“Without　saying　more？”　cried　Monks；　in　a　voice　which；　from　its　
very　suppression；　seemed　only　the　more　furious。　“It’s　a　lie！　I’ll　not　
be　played　with。　She　said　more。　I’ll　tear　the　life　out　of　you　both；　but　
I’ll　know　what　it　was。”　

“She　didn’t　utter　another　word；”　said　the　woman；　to　all　
appearance　unmoved　（as　Mr。　Bumble　was　very　far　from　being）　by　
the　strange　man’s　violence；　“but　she　clutched　my　gown；　violently；　
with　one　hand；　which　was　partly　closed；　and　when　I　saw　that　she　
was　dead；　and　so　removed　the　hand　by　force；　I　found　it　clasped　a　

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scrap　of　dirty　paper。”　

“Which　contained—”　interposed　Monks；　stretching　forward。　

“Nothing；”　replied　the　woman；　“it　was　a　pawnbroker’s　
duplicate。”　

“For　what？”　demanded　Monks。　

“In　good　time　I’ll　tell　you；”　said　the　woman。　“I　judge　that　she　
had　kept　the　trinket；　for　some　time；　in　the　hope　of　turning　it　to　
better　account；　and　then　had　pawned　it；　and　had　saved　or　scraped　
together　money　to　pay　the　pawnbroker’s　interest　year　by　year；　and　
prevent　it　running　out；　so　that　if　anything　came　of　it；　it　could　still　
be　redeemed。　Nothing　had　come　of　it；　and；　as　I　tell　you；　she　died　
with　the　scrap　of　paper；　all　worn　and　tattered；　in　her　hand。　The　
time　was　out　in　two　days；　I　thought　something　might　one　day　come　
of　it　too；　and　so　redeemed　the　pledge。”　

“Where　is　it　now？”　asked　Monks　quickly。　

“There；”　replied　the　woman。　And；　as　if　glad　to　be　relieved　of　it；　
she　hastily　threw　upon　the　table　a　small　kid　bag　scarcely　large　
enough　for　a　French　watch；　which　Monks　pouncing　upon；　tore　
open　with　trembling　hands。　It　contained　a　little　gold　locket；　in　
which　were　two　locks　of　hair；　and　a　plain　gold　wedding…ring。　

“It　has　the　word　‘Agnes’　engraved　on　the　inside；”　said　the　
woman。　“There　is　a　blank　left　for　the　surname；　and　then　follows　
the　date；　which　is　within　a　year　before　the　child　was　born。　I　found　
out　that。”　

“And　this　is　all？”　said　Monks；　after　a　close　and　eager　scrutiny　of　
the　contents　of　the　little　packet。　

“All；”　replied　the　woman。　

Mr。　Bumble　drew　a　long　breath；　as　if　he　were　glad　to　find　that　
the　story　was　over；　and　no　mention　made　of　taking　the　five…and…

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twenty　pounds　back　again；　and　now　he　took　courage　to　wipe　off　
the　perspiration　which　had　been　trickling　over　his　nose；　
unchecked；　during　the　whole　of　the　previous　dialogue。　

“I　know　nothing　of　the　story；　beyond　what　I　can　guess　at；”　said　
his　wife；　addressing　Monks；　after　a　short　silence；　“and　I　want　to　
know　nothing；　for　it’s　safer　not。　But　I　may　ask　you　two　questions；　
may　I？”　

“You　may　ask；”　said　Monks；　with　some　show　of　surprise；　“but　
whether　I　answer　or　not　is　another　question。”　

“Which　makes　three；”　observed　Mr。　Bumble；　essaying　a　stroke　
of　facetiousness。　

“Is　that　what　you　expected　to　get　from　me？”　demanded　the　
matron　“It　is；”　replied　Monks。　“The　other　question？”　

“What　do　you　propose　to