“I haven’t got him, my dear,” said the old man.“Where is he?” screamed Nancy, in a distracted manner.“Why, the gentleman’s got him,” replied the officer.“What gentleman? Oh, gracious heavens! What gentleman?”exclaimed Nancy.In reply to this incoherent questioning, the old man informedthe deeply-affected sister that Oliver had been taken ill in theoffice, and discharged in consequence of a witness having provedthe robbery to have been committed by another boy, not incustody; and that the prosecutor had carried him away, in aninsensible condition, to his own residence; of and concerningwhich, all the informant knew was, that it was somewhere atCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 134Pentonville, he having heard that word mentioned in thedirections to the coachman.In a dreadful state of doubt and uncertainty, the agonisedyoung woman staggered to the gate, and then, exchanging herfaltering walk for a good, swift, steady run, returned by the mostdevious and complicated route she could think of, to the domicileof the Jew.Mr. Bill Sikes no sooner heard the account of the expeditiondelivered, than he very hastily called up the white dog, and puttingon his hat, expeditiously departed, without devoting any time tothe formality of wishing the company good-morning.“We must know where he is, my dears; he must be found,” saidthe Jew, greatly excited. “Charley, do nothing but skulk about, tillyou bring home some news of him! Nancy, my dear, I must havehim found. I trust to you, my dear—to you and the Artful foreverything! Stay, stay,” added the Jew, unlocking a drawer with ashaking hand; “there’s money, my dears. I shall shut up his shoptonight. You’ll know where to find me! Don’t stop here a minute.Not an instant, my dears!”With these words, he pushed them from the room: and carefullydouble-locking and barring the door behind them, drew from itsplace of concealment the box which he had unintentionallydisclosed to Oliver. Then, he hastily proceeded to dispose thewatches and jewellery beneath his clothing.A rap at the door startled him in this occupation. “Who’sthere?” he cried, in a shrill tone.“Me!” replied the voice of the Dodger, through the keyhole.“What now?” cried the Jew impatiently.“Is he to be kidnapped to the other ken, Nancy says?” inquiredCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 135the Dodger.“Yes,” replied the Jew, “wherever she lays hands on him. Findhim, find him out, that’s all! I shall know what to do next; neverfear.”The boy murmured a reply of intelligence; and hurrieddownstairs after his companions.“He has not peached so far,” said the Jew as he pursued hisoccupation. “If he means to blab us among his new friends, wemay stop his mouth yet.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 136Chapter 14Comprising Further Particulars Of Oliver’s Stay AtMr. Brownlow’s, With The Remarkable PredictionWhich One Mr. Grimwig Uttered Concerning Him,When He Went Out On An Errand.O liver soon recovering from the fainting fit into which Mr.Brownlow’s abrupt exclamation had thrown him thesubject of the picture was carefully avoided, both by theold gentleman and Mrs. Bedwin, in the conversation that ensued;which indeed bore no reference to Oliver’s history or prospectsbut was confined to such topics as might amuse without excitinghim. He was still too weak to get up to breakfast; but, when hecame down into the housekeeper’s room next day, his first act wasto cast an eager glance at the wall, in the hope of again looking onthe face of the beautiful lady. His expectations were disappointed,however, for the picture had been removed.“Ah!” said the housekeeper, watching the direction of Oliver’seyes. “It is gone, you see.”“I see it is, ma’am,” replied Oliver. “Why have they taken itaway?”“It has been taken down, child, because Mr. Brownlow said,that as it seemed to worry you, perhaps it might prevent yourgetting well, you know,” rejoined the old lady.“Oh, no, indeed. It didn’t worry me, ma’am,” said Oliver. “Iliked to see it. I quite loved it.”“Well, well!” said the old lady good-humouredly; “you get wellCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 137as fast as ever you can, dear, and it shall be hung up again. There!I promise you that! Now, let us talk about something else.”This was all the information Oliver would obtain about thepicture at that time. As the old lady had been so kind to him in hisillness, he endeavoured to think no more of the subject just then;so he listened attentively to a great many stories she told him,about an amiable and handsome daughter of hers, who wasmarried to an amiable and handsome man, and lived in thecountry; and about a son, who was clerk to a merchant in the WestIndies; and who was, also, such a good young man, and wrote suchdutiful letters home four times a year, that it brought the tears intoher eyes to talk about them. When the old lady had expatiated, along time, on the excellences of her children, and the merits of herkind good husband besides, who had been dead and gone, poordear soul! just six-and-twenty years, it was time to have tea. Aftertea she began to teach Oliver cribbage; which he learned asquickly as she could teach; and at which game they played, withgreat interest and gravity, until it was time for the invalid to havesome warm wine-and-water, with a slice of dry toast, and then togo cosily to bed.These were happy days, those of Oliver’s recovery. Everythingwas so quiet, and neat, and orderly; everybody so kind and gentle;that after the noise and turbulence in the midst of which he hadalways lived, it seemed like heaven itself. He was no sooner strongenough to put his clothes on, properly, than Mr. Brownlow causeda complete new suit, and a new cap, and a new pair of shoes, to beprovided for him. As Oliver was told that he might do what heliked with the old clothes, he gave them to a servant who had beenvery kind to him and asked her to sell them to a Jew, and keep theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 138money for herself. This she very readily did; and, as Oliver lookedout of the parlour window, and saw the Jew roll them up in his bagand walk away he felt quite delighted to think that they weresafely gone, and that there was now no possible danger of his everbeing able to wear them again. They were sad rags, to tell thetruth; and Oliver had never had a new suit before.One evening, about a week after the affair of the picture, as hewas sitting talking to Mrs. Bedwin, there came a message downfrom Mr. Brownlow, that if Oliver Twist felt pretty well, he shouldlike to see him in his study, and talk to him a little while.“Bless us, and save us! Wash your hands, and let me part yourhair nicely for you, child,” said Mrs. Bedwin. “Dear heart alive! Ifwe had known he would have asked for you we would have putyou a clean collar on, and made you as smart as sixpence!”Oliver did as the old lady bade him; and, although she lamentedgrievously, meanwhile, that there was not even time to crimp thelittle frill, that bordered his shirt collar, he looked so delicate andhandsome, despite that important personal advantage, that shewent so far as to say, looking at him with great complacency, fromhead to foot, that she really didn’t think it would have beenpossible, on the longest notice, to have made much difference inhim for the better.Thus encouraged, Oliver tapped at the study door. On Mr.Brownlow calling to him to come in, he found himself in a little,back room, quite full of books, with a window, looking into somepleasant little gardens. There was a table drawn up before thewindow, at which Mr. Brownlow was seated reading. When he sawOliver, he pushed the book away from him, and told him to comenear the table, and sit down. Oliver complied, marvelling whereCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 139the people could be found to read such a great number of books asseemed to be written to make the world wiser. Which is still amarvel to more experienced people than Oliver Twist, every day oftheir lives.“There are a good many books, are there not, my boy?” saidMr. Brownlow, observing the curiosity with which Oliver surveyedthe shelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling.“A great number, sir,” replied Oliver. “I never saw so many.”“You shall read them, if you behave well,” said the oldgentleman kindly; “and you will like that, better than looking atthe outsides—that is, in some cases; because there are books ofwhich the backs and covers are by far the best parts.”“I suppose they are those heavy ones, sir,” said Oliver, pointingto some large quartos, with a good deal of gilding about thebinding.“Not always those,” said the old gentleman, patting Oliver onthe head, and smiling as he did so; “there are other equally heavyones, though of a much smaller size. How should you like to growup a clever man, and write books, eh?”“I think I would rather read them, sir,” replied Oliver.“What! wouldn’t you like to be a book-writer? said the oldgentleman.Oliver considered a little while; and at last said, he should thinkit would be a much better thing to be a book-seller; upon whichthe old gentleman laughed heartily, and declared he had said avery good thing. Which Oliver felt glad to have done, though he byno means knew what it was.“Well, well,” said the old gentleman, composing his features.“Don’t be afraid! We won’t make an author of you, while there’s anCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 140honest trade to be learned, or brick-making to turn to.”“Thank you, sir,” said Oliver. At the earnest manner of hisreply, the old gentleman laughed again; and said something abouta curious instinct, which Oliver, not understanding, paid no verygreat attention to.“Now,” said Mr. Brownlow, speaking if possible in a kinder, butat the same time in a much more serious manner than Oliver hadever known him assume yet, “I want you to pay great attention,my boy, to what I am going to say. I shall talk to you without anyreserve because I am sure you are as well able to understand me,as many older persons would be.”“Oh, don’t tell me you are going to send me away, sir, pray!”exclaimed Oliver, alarmed at the serious tone of the oldgentleman’s commencement. “Don’t turn me out of doors towander in the streets again. Let me stay here, and be a servant.Don’t send me back to the wretched place I came from. Havemercy upon a poor boy, sir!”“My dear child,” said the old gentleman, moved by the warmthof Oliver’s sudden appeal; “you need not be afraid of my desertingyou, unless you give me cause.”“I never, never will, sir,” interposed Oliver.“I hope not,” rejoined the old gentleman. “I do not think youever will. I have been deceived, before, in the objects whom I haveendeavoured to benefit; but I feel strongly disposed to trust you,nevertheless; and I am more interested in your behalf than I canwell account for, even to myself. The persons on whom I havebestowed my dearest love, lie deep in their graves; but, althoughthe happiness and delight of my life lie buried there too, I have notmade a coffin of my heart, and sealed it up, for ever, on my bestCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 141affections. Deep affliction has but strengthened and refined them.”As the old gentleman said this in a low voice, more to himselfthan to his companion, and as he remained silent for a short timeafterwards, Oliver sat quite still.“Well, well!” said the old gentleman at length, in a morecheerful tone, “I only say this, because you have a young heart;and knowing that I have suffered great pain and sorrow, you willbe more careful, perhaps, not to wound me again. You say you arean orphan, without a friend in the world; all the inquiries I havebeen able to make, confirm the statement. Let me hear yourstory—where you come from; who brought you up; and how yougot into the company in which I found you. Speak the truth; andyou shall not be friendless while I live.”Oliver’s sobs checked his utterance for some minutes; when hewas on the point of beginning to relate how he had been broughtup at the farm, and carried to the workhouse by Mr. Bumble, apeculiarly impatient little double-knock was heard at the streetdoor; and the servant, running upstairs, announced Mr. Grimwig.“Is he coming up?” inquired Mr. Brownlow.“Yes, sir,” replied the servant. “He asked if there were anymuffins in the house; and, when I told him yes, he said he hadcome to tea.”Mr. Brownlow smiled; and, turning to Oliver, said that Mr.Grimwig was an old friend of his, and he must not mind his beinga little rough in his manners for he was a worthy creature atbottom, as he had reason to know.“Shall I go downstairs, sir?” inquired Oliver.“No,” replied Mr. Brownlow, “I would rather you remained Atthis moment, there walked into the room, supporting himself by aCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 142thick stick, a stout old gentleman, rather lame in one leg, who wasdressed in a blue coat, striped waistcoat nankeen breeches andgaiters, and a broad-brimmed white hat, with the sides turned upwith green. A very small-plated shirt frill stuck out from hiswaistcoat; and a very long steel watch-chain, with nothing but akey at the end, dangled loosely below it. The ends of his whiteneckerchief were twisted into a ball about the size of an orange;the variety of shapes into which his countenance was twisted, defydescription. He had a manner of screwing his head on one sidewhen he spoke, and of looking out of the corners of his eyes at thesame time, which irresistibly reminded the beholder of a parrot. Inthis attitude he fixed himself, the moment he made hisappearance; and, holding out a small piece of orange-peel at arm’slength, exclaimed, in a growling, discontented voice:“Look here! do you see this! Isn’t it a most wonderful andextraordinary thing that I can’t call at a man’s house but I find apiece of this poor surgeon’s-friend on the staircase? I’ve beenlamed with orange-peel once, and I know orange-peel will be mydeath at last. It will sir; orange-peel will be my death, or I’ll becontent to eat my own head, sir!”This was the handsome offer with which Mr. Grimwig backedand confirmed nearly every assertion he made; and it was themore singular in his case, because, even admitting for the sake ofargument, the possibility of scientific improvements being everbrought to that pass which will enable a gentleman to eat his ownhead in the event of his being go disposed, Mr. Grimwig’s headwas such a particularly large one, that the most sanguine manalive could hardly entertain a hope of being able to get through itat a sitting—to put entirely out of the question, a very thickCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist 143coating of powder.“I’ll eat my head, sir,” repeated Mr. Grimwig, striking his stickupon the ground. “Hallo! what’s that!” looking at Oliver, andretreating a pace or two.“This is young Oliver Twist, whom we were speaking, about,”said Mr. Brownlow.Oliver bowed.“You don’t mean to say that’s the boy who had the fever, Ihope?” said Mr. Grimwig, recoiling a little more. “Wait a minute!Don’t speak! Stop” continued Mr. Grimwig, abruptly, losing alldread of the fever in his triumph at the discovery; “that’s the boywho had the orange! If that’s not the boy, sir, who had the orange,and threw this bit of peel upon the staircase, I’ll eat my head, andhis too.”“No, no, he has not had one,” said Mr. Brownlow, laughing.“Come! Put down your hat; and speak to my young friend.”“I feel strongly on this subject, sir,” said the irritable oldgentleman, drawing off his gloves. “There’s always more or lessorange-peel on the pavement in our street; and I know it’s putthere by the surgeon’s boy at the corner. A young womanstumbled over a bit last night, and fell against my garden railings;directly she got up I saw her look towards his infernal red lampwith the pantomime-light. ‘Don’t go to him,’ I called out of thewindow, ‘he’s an assassin! A mantrap!’ So he is. If he is not—”Here the irascible old gentleman gave a great knock on the groundwith his stick; which was always understood, by his friend, toimply the customary offer, whenever it was not expressed inwords. Then, still keeping his stick in his hand, he sat down; and,opening a double eyeglass, which he wore attached to a broad,