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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第72章

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rascal—” 

“It’s not of him I want to hear; I’ve heard enough of him;” said 
the stranger; stopping Mr。 Bumble in the very outset of a tirade on 
the subject of poor Oliver’s vices。 “It’s of a woman; the hag that 
nursed his mother。 Where is she?” 

“Where is she?” said Mr。 Bumble; whom the gin…and…water had 
rendered facetious。 “It would be hard to tell。 There’s no midwifery 
there; whichever place she’s gone to; so I suppose she’s out of 
employment; anyway。” 

“What do you mean?” demanded the stranger sternly。 

“That she died last winter;” rejoined Mr。 Bumble。 

The man looked fixedly at him when he had given this 
information; and although he did not withdraw his eyes for some 
time afterwards; his gaze gradually became vacant and abstracted; 
and he seemed lost in thought。 For some time; he appeared 
doubtful whether he ought to be relieved or disappointed by the 
intelligence; but at length he breathed more freely; and 
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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Oliver Twist 394 

“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;
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