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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第88部分

小说: oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪)) 字数: 每页4000字

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no one could tell where。 I returned。 Your agents had no clue to 
your residence。 You came and went; they said; as strangely as you 
had ever done; sometimes for days together and sometimes not for 
months; keeping; to all appearance; the same low haunts and 
mingling with the same infamous herd who had been your 
associates when a fierce; ungovernable boy。 I wearied them with 
new applications。 I paced the streets by night and day; but until 
two hours ago; all my efforts were fruitless; and I never saw you 
for an instant。” 

“And now you do see me;” said Monks; rising boldly; “what 
then? Fraud and robbery are high…sounding words—justified; you 
think; by a fancied resemblance in some young imp to an idle daub 
of a dead man’s。 Brother! You don’t even know that a child was 
born of this maudlin pair; you don’t even known that。” 

“I did not;” replied Mr。 Brownlow; rising too; “but within the 

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last fortnight I have learned it all。 You have a brother; you know it; 
and him。 There was a will; which your mother destroyed; leaving 
the secret and the gain to you at her own death。 It contained a 
reference to some child likely to be the result of this sad 
connection; which child was born; and accidentally encountered 
by you; when your suspicions were first awakened by his 
resemblance to his father。 You repaired to the place of his birth。 
There existed proofs—proofs long suppressed—of his birth and 
parentage。 Those proofs were destroyed by you; and now; in your 
own words to your accomplice the Jew; ‘the only proofs of the boy’s 
identity lie at the bottom of the river; and the old hag that received 
them from the mother is rotting in her coffin。’ Unworthy son; 
coward; liar—you; who hold your councils with thieves and 
murderers in dark rooms at night; you; whose plots and wiles have 
brought a violent death upon the head of one worth millions such 
as you—you; who from your cradle were gall and bitterness to 
your own father’s heart; and in whom all evil passions; vice; and 
profligacy; festered; till they found a vent in a hideous disease 
which has made your face an index even to your mind—you; 
Edward Leeford; do you still brave me?” 

“No; no; no!” returned the coward; overwhelmed by these 
accumulated charges。 

“Every word!” cried the old gentleman—“every word that has 
passed between you and this detested villain; is known to me。 
Shadows on the wall have caught your whispers; and brought 
them to my ear; the sight of the persecuted child has turned vice 
itself; and given it the courage and almost the attributes of virtue。 
Murder has been done; to which you were morally if not really a 
party。” 

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“No; no;” interposed Monks。 “I—I know nothing of that; I was 
going to inquire the truth of the story when you overtook me。 I 
didn’t know the cause。 I thought it was a common quarrel。” 

“It was the partial disclosure of your secrets;” replied Mr。 
Brownlow。 “Will you disclose the whole?” 

“Yes; I will。” 

“Set your hand to a statement of truth and facts; and repeat it 
before witnesses?” 

“That I promise; too。” 

“Remain quietly here; until such a document is drawn up; and 
proceed with me to such a place as I may deem most advisable; for 
the purpose of attesting it?” 

“If you insist upon that; I’ll do that also;” replied Monks。 

“You must do more than that;” said Mr。 Brownlow。 “Make 
restitution to an innocent and unoffending child; for such he is; 
although the offspring of a guilty and most miserable love。 You 
have not forgotten the provisions of the will。 Carry them into 
execution so far as your brother is concerned; and then go where 
you please。 In this world you need meet no more。” 

While Monks was pacing up and down; meditating with dark 
and evil looks on this disposal and the possibilities of evading it; 
torn by his fears on the one hand and his hatred on the other; the 
door was hurriedly unlocked; and a gentleman (Mr。 Losberne) 
entered the room in violent agitation。 

“The man will be taken;” he cried。 “He will be taken tonight!” 

“The murderer?” asked Mr。 Brownlow。 

“Yes; yes;” replied the other。 “His dog has been seen lurking 
about some old haunt; and there seems little doubt that his master 
either is; or will be; there; under cover of darkness。 Spies are 

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hovering about in every direction。 I have spoken to the men who 
are charged with his capture; and they tell me he can never 
escape。 A reward of a hundred pounds is proclaimed by 
Government tonight。” 

“I will give fifty more;” said Mr。 Brownlow; “and proclaim it 
with my own lips upon the spot; if I can reach it。 Where is Mr。 
Maylie?” 

“Harry? As soon as he had seen your friend here; safe in a 
coach with you; he hurried off to where he heard this;” replied the 
doctor; “and; mounting his horse; sallied forth to join the first 
party at some place in the outskirts agreed upon between them。” 

“Fagin;” said Mr。 Brownlow; “what of him?” 

“When I last heard; he had not been taken; but he will be; or is; 
by this time。 They’re sure of him。” 

“Have you made up your mind?” asked Mr。 Brownlow; in a low 
voice; of Monks。 

“Yes;” he replied。 “You—you—will be secret with me?” 

“I will。 Remain here till I return。 It is your only hope of safety。” 

They left the room; and the door was again locked。 

“What have you done?” asked the doctor; in a whisper。 

“All that I could hope to do; and even more。 Coupling the poor 
girl’s intelligence with my previous knowledge; and the result of 
our good friend’s inquiries on the spot; I left him no loophole of 
escape; and laid bare the whole villainy which by these lights 
became plain as day。 Write and appoint the evening after 
tomorrow; at seven; for the meeting。 We shall be down there; a few 
hours before; but shall require rest; especially the young lady; who 
may have greater need of firmness than either you or I can quite 
foresee just now。 But my blood boils to avenge this poor murdered 

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creature。 Which way have they taken?” 

“Drive straight to the office and you will be in time;” replied Mr。 
Losberne。 “I will remain here。” 

The two gentlemen hastily separated; each in a fever of 
excitement wholly uncontrollable。 

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Chapter 50 

The Pursuit And Escape。 

Near to that part of the Thames on which the church at 
Rotherhithe abuts; where the buildings on the banks are 
dirtiest and the vessels on the river blackest with the dust 
of colliers and the smoke of close…built; low…roofed houses; there 
exists the filthiest; the strangest; the most extraordinary of the 
many localities that are hidden in London; wholly unknown; even 
by name; to the great mass of its inhabitants。 

To reach this place; the visitor has to penetrate through a maze 
of close; narrow; and muddy streets; thronged by the roughest and 
poorest of waterside people; and devoted to the traffic they may be 
supposed to occasion。 The cheapest and least delicate provisions 
are heaped in the shops; the coarsest and commonest articles of 
wearing apparel dangle at the salesman’s door; and stream from 
the house…parapet and windows。 Jostling with unemployed 
labourers of the lowest class; ballast…heavers; coal…whippers; 
brazen woman; ragged children; and the raff and refuse of the 
river; he makes his way with difficulty along; assailed by offensive 
sights and smells from the narrow alleys which branch off on the 
right and left; and deafened by the clash of ponderous wagons that 
bear great piles of merchandise from the stacks of warehouses that 
rise from every corner。 Arriving; at length; in streets remoter and 
less frequented than those through which he has passed; he walks 
beneath tottering house…fronts projecting over the pavement; 
dismantled walls that seem to totter as he passes; chimneys half…

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crushed; half…hesitating to fall; windows guarded by rusty iron 
bars that time and dirt have almost eaten away; and every 
imaginable sign of。 desolation and neglect。 

In such a neighbourhood; beyond Dockhead in the borough of 
Southwark; stands Jacob’s Island; surrounded by a muddy ditch; 
six or eight feet deep and fifteen or twenty wide when the tide is 
in; once called Mill Pond; but known in the days of this story as 
Folly Ditch。 It is a creek or inlet from the Thames; and can always 
be filled at high water by opening the sluices at the lead mills from 
which it took its old name。 

At such times; a stranger; looking from one of the wooden 
bridges thrown across it at Mill Lane; will see the inhabitants of 
the houses on either side lowering from their back doors and 
windows; buckets; pails; and domestic utensils of all kinds; in 
which to haul the water up; and when his eye is turned from these 
operations to the houses themselves; his utmost astonishment will 
be excited by the scene before him。 Crazy wooden galleries 
common to the backs of half a dozen houses; with holes from 
which to look upon the slime beneath; windows; broken and 
patched; with poles thrust out; on which to dry the linen that is 
never there; rooms so small; so filthy; so confined; that the air 
would seem too tainted even for the dirt and squalor which they 
shelter; wooden chambers thrusting themselves out above the 
mud; and threatening to fall into it—as some have done; dirt…
besmeared walls and decaying foundations; every repulsive 
lineament of poverty; every loathsome indication of filth; rot; and 
garbage; all these ornament the banks of Folly Ditch。 

In Jacob’s Island; the warehouses are roofless and empty; the 
walls are crumbling down; the windows are windows no more; the 

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doors are falling into the streets; the chimneys ar

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