Chapter 15
SHOWING HOW VERY FOND OF OLIVER TWIST, THE MERRY OLD JEW AND MISS NANCY WERE
In the obscure parlour of a low public-house, in the filthiest part of Little Saffron Hill; a dark and gloomy den, where a flaring gas-light burnt all day in the winter-time; and where no ray of sun ever shone in the summer: there sat, brooding over a little pewter measure and a small glass, strongly impregnated with the smell of liquor, a man in a velveteen coat, drab shorts, half-boots and stockings, whom even by that dim light no experienced agent of the police would have hesitated to recognise as Mr. William Sikes. At his feet, sat a white-coated, red-eyed dog; who occupied himself, alternately, in winking at his master with both eyes at the same time; and in licking a large, fresh cut on one side of his mouth, which appeared to be the result of some recent conflict.
'Keep quiet, you warmint! Keep quiet!' said Mr. Sikes, suddenly breaking silence. Whether his meditations were so intense as to be disturbed by the dog's winking, or whether his feelings were so wrought upon by his reflections that they required all the relief derivable from kicking an unoffending animal to allay them, is matter for argument and consideration. Whatever was the cause, the effect was a kick and a curse, bestowed upon the dog simultaneously.
Dogs are not generally apt to revenge injuries inflicted upon them by their masters; but Mr. Sikes's dog, having faults of temper in common with his owner, and labouring, perhaps, at this moment, under a powerful sense of injury, made no more ado but at once fixed his teeth in one of the half-boots. Having given in a hearty shake, he retired, growling, under a form; just escaping the pewter measure which Mr. Sikes levelled at his head.
'You would, would you?' said Sikes, seizing the poker in one hand, and deliberately opening with the other a large clasp-knife, which he drew from his pocket. 'Come here, you born devil! Come here! D'ye hear?'
The dog no doubt heard; because Mr. Sikes spoke in the very harshest key of a very harsh voice; but, appearing to entertain some unaccountable objection to having his throat cut, he remained where he was, and growled more fiercely than before: at the same time grasping the end of the poker between his teeth, and biting at it like a wild beast.
This resistance only infuriated Mr. Sikes the more; who, dropping on his knees, began to assail the animal most furiously. The dog jumped from right to left, and from left to right; snapping, growling, and barking; the man thrust and swore, and struck and blasphemed; and the struggle was reaching a most critical point for one or other; when, the door suddenly opening, the dog darted out: leaving Bill Sikes with the poker and the clasp-knife in his hands.
There must always be two parties to a quarrel, says the old adage. Mr. Sikes, being disappointed of the dog's participation, at once transferred his share in the quarrel to the new comer.
'What the devil do you come in between me and my dog for?' said Sikes, with a fierce gesture.
'I didn't know, my dear, I didn't know,' replied Fagin, humbly; for the Jew was the new comer.
'Didn't know, you white-livered thief!' growled Sikes. 'Couldn't you hear the noise?'
'Not a sound of it, as I'm a living man, Bill,' replied the Jew.
'Oh no! You hear nothing, you don't,' retorted Sikes with a fierce sneer. 'Sneaking in and out, so as nobody hears how you come or go! I wish you had been the dog, Fagin, half a minute ago.'
'Why?' inquired the Jew with a forced smile.
'Cause the government, as cares for the lives of such men as you, as haven't half the pluck of curs, lets a man kill a dog how he likes,' replied Sikes, shutting up the knife with a very expressive look; 'that's why.'
The Jew rubbed his hands; and, sitting down at the table, affected to laugh at the pleasantry of his friend. He was obviously very ill at ease, however.
'Grin away,' said Sikes, replacing the poker, and surveying him with savage contempt; 'grin away. You'll never have the laugh at me, though, unless it's behind a nightcap. I've got the upper hand over you, Fagin; and, d--me, I'll keep it. There! If I go, you go; so take care of me.'
'Well, well, my dear,' said the Jew, 'I know all that; we--we--have a mutual interest, Bill,--a mutual interest.'
'Humph,' said Sikes, as if he thought the interest lay rather more on the Jew's side than on his. 'Well, what have you got to say to me?'
'It's all passed safe through the melting-pot,' replied Fagin, 'and this is your share. It's rather more than it ought to be, my dear; but as I know you'll do me a good turn another time, and--'
'Stow that gammon,' interposed the robber, impatiently. 'Where is it? Hand over!'
'Yes, yes, Bill; give me time, give me time,' replied the Jew, soothingly. 'Here it is! All safe!' As he spoke, he drew forth an old cotton handkerchief from his breast; and untying a large knot in one corner, produced a small brown-paper packet. Sikes, snatching it from him, hastily opened it; and proceeded to count the sovereigns it contained.
'This is all, is it?' inquired Sikes.
'All,' replied the Jew.
'You haven't opened the parcel and swallowed one or two as you come along, have you?' inquired Sikes, suspiciously. 'Don't put on an injured look at the question; you've done it many a time. Jerk the tinkler.'
These words, in plain English, conveyed an injunction to ring the bell. It was answered by another Jew: younger than Fagin, but nearly as vile and repulsive in appearance.
Bill Sikes merely pointed to the empty measure. The Jew, perfectly understanding the hint, retired to fill it: previously exchanging a remarkable look with Fagin, who raised his eyes for an instant, as if in expectation of it, and shook his head in reply; so slightly that the action would have been almost imperceptible to an observant third person. It was lost upon Sikes, who was stooping at the moment to tie the boot-lace which the dog had torn. Possibly, if he had observed the brief interchange of signals, he might have thought that it boded no good to him.
'Is anybody here, Barney?' inquired Fagin; speaking, now that that Sikes was looking on, without raising his eyes from the ground.
'Dot a shoul,' replied Barney; whose words: whether they came from the heart or not: made their way through the nose.
'Nobody?' inquired Fagin, in a tone of surprise: which perhaps might mean that Barney was at liberty to tell the truth.
'Dobody but Biss Dadsy,' replied Barney.
'Nancy!' exclaimed Sikes. 'Where? Strike me blind, if I don't honour that 'ere girl, for her native talents.'
'She's bid havid a plate of boiled beef id the bar,' replied Barney.
'Send her here,' said Sikes, pouring out a glass of liquor. 'Send her here.'
Barney looked timidly at Fagin, as if for permission; the Jew remaining silent, and not lifting his eyes from the ground, he retired; and presently returned, ushering in Nancy; who was decorated with the bonnet, apron, basket, and street-door key, complete.
'You are on the scent, are you, Nancy?' inquired Sikes, proffering the glass.
'Yes, I am, Bill,' replied the young lady, disposing of its contents; 'and tired enough of it I am, too. The young brat's been ill and confined to the crib; and--'
'Ah, Nancy, dear!' said Fagin, looking up.
Now, whether a peculiar contraction of the Jew's red eye-brows, and a half closing of his deeply-set eyes, warned Miss Nancy that she was disposed to be too communicative, is not a matter of much importance. The fact is all we need care for here; and the fact is, that she suddenly checked herself, and with several gracious smiles upon Mr. Sikes, turned the conversation to other matters. In about ten minutes' time, Mr. Fagin was seized with a fit of coughing; upon which Nancy pulled her shawl over her shoulders, and declared it was time to go. Mr. Sikes, finding that he was walking a short part of her way himself, expressed his intention of accompanying her; they went away together, followed, at a little distant, by the dog, who slunk out of a back-yard as soon as his master was out of sight.
The Jew thrust his head out of the room door when Sikes had left it; looked after him as we walked up the dark passage; shook his clenched fist; muttered a deep curse; and then, with a horrible grin, reseated himself at the table; where he was soon deeply absorbed in the interesting pages of the Hue-and-Cry.
Meanwhile, Oliver Twist, little dreaming that he was within so very short a distance of the merry old gentleman, was on his way to the book-stall. When he got into Clerkenwell, he accidently turned down a by-street which was not exactly in his way; but not discovering his mistake until he had got half-way down it, and knowing it must lead in the right direction, he did not think it worth while to turn back; and so marched on, as quickly as he could, with the books under his arm.
He was walking along, thinking how happy and contented he ought to feel; and how much he would give for only one look at poor little Dick, who, starved and beaten, might be weeping bitterly at that very moment; when he was startled by a young woman screaming out very loud. 'Oh, my dear brother!' And he had hardly looked up, to see what the matter was, when he was stopped by having a pair of arms thrown tight round his neck.
'Don't,' cried Oliver, struggling. 'Let go of me. Who is it? What are you stopping me for?'
The only reply to this, was a great number of loud lamentations from the young woman who had embraced him; and who had a little basket and a street-door key in her hand.
'Oh my gracious!' said the young woman, 'I have found him! Oh! Oliver! Oliver! Oh you naughty boy, to make me suffer such distress on your account! Come home, dear, come. Oh, I've found him. Thank gracious goodness heavins, I've found him!' With these incoherent exclamations, the young woman burst into another fit of crying, and got so dreadfully hysterical, that a couple of women who came up at the moment asked a butcher's boy with a shiny head of hair anointed with suet, who was also looking on, whether he didn't think he had better run for the doctor. To which, the butcher's boy: who appeared of a lounging, not to say indolent disposition: replied, that he thought not.
'Oh, no, no, never mind,' said the young woman, grasping Oliver's hand; 'I'm better now. Come home directly, you cruel boy! Come!'
'Oh, ma'am,' replied the young woman, 'he ran away, near a month ago, from his parents, who are hard-working and respectable people; and went and joined a set of thieves and bad characters; and almost broke his mother's heart.'
'Young wretch!' said one woman.
'Go home, do, you little brute,' said the other.
'I am not,' replied Oliver, greatly alarmed. 'I don't know her. I haven't any sister, or father and mother either. I'm an orphan; I live at Pentonville.'
'Only hear him, how he braves it out!' cried the young woman.
'Why, it's Nancy!' exclaimed Oliver; who now saw her face for the first time; and started back, in irrepressible astonishment.
'You see he knows me!' cried Nancy, appealing to the bystanders. 'He can't help himself. Make him come home, there's good people, or he'll kill his dear mother and father, and break my heart!'
'What the devil's this?' said a man, bursting out of a beer-shop, with a white dog at his heels; 'young Oliver! Come home to your poor mother, you young dog! Come home directly.'
'I don't belong to them. I don't know them. Help! help!' cried Oliver, struggling in the man's powerful grasp.
'Help!' repeated the man. 'Yes; I'll help you, you young rascal!
What books are these? You've been a stealing 'em, have you? Give 'em here.' With these words, the man tore the volumes from his grasp, and struck him on the head.
'That's right!' cried a looker-on, from a garret-window. 'That's the only way of bringing him to his senses!'
'To be sure!' cried a sleepy-faced carpenter, casting an approving look at the garret-window.
'It'll do him good!' said the two women.
'And he shall have it, too!' rejoined the man, administering another blow, and seizing Oliver by the collar. 'Come on, you young villain! Here, Bull's-eye, mind him, boy! Mind him!'
Weak with recent illness; stupified by the blows and the suddenness of the attack; terrified by the fierce growling of the dog, and the brutality of the man; overpowered by the conviction of the bystanders that he really was the hardened little wretch he was described to be; what could one poor child do! Darkness had set in; it was a low neighborhood; no help was near; resistance was useless. In another moment he was dragged into a labyrinth of dark narrow courts, and was forced along them at a pace which rendered the few cries he dared to give utterance to, unintelligible. It was of little moment, indeed, whether they were intelligible or no; for there was nobody to care for them, had they been ever so plain.
* * * * * * * * *
The gas-lamps were lighted; Mrs. Bedwin was waiting anxiously at the open door; the servant had run up the street twenty times to see if there were any traces of Oliver; and still the two old gentlemen sat, perseveringly, in the dark parlour, with the watch between them.
在小红花山最肮脏的地段，有一家下等酒馆，酒馆的店堂十分昏暗，这里冬天从早到晚点着一盏闪闪烁烁的煤气灯，就是在夏天，也没有一丝一陽一光照进这个一陰一森幽暗的巢一穴一。这家酒馆里坐着一个正在独斟独酌的汉子。他穿一身平绒外套，淡褐色马裤，半长统靴带套袜，守着面前的一个白锡小酒壶和一只小玻璃杯，浑身散发出浓烈的酒味。尽管灯光十分昏暗，一个有经验的警探还是会毫不迟疑地认出这就是威廉赛克斯先生。一只白一毛一红眼狗伏一在他的脚下，时而抬起头来，两只眼睛同时向主人眨巴眨巴，时而又一舔一舔一嘴角上一条新的大口子，那显然是最近一次冲突落下的。
“放老实点，你这狗东西！别出声！”赛克斯先生突然打破了沉默。不知是因为这样专注的思索却被狗的眼光打乱了呢，还是因情绪受到思维的推动，需要冲着一头无辜的畜生踢一脚，以便安神静气，这个问题还有待讨论。不管原因何在，结果是狗同时挨了一脚和一句臭骂。
狗对于主人的打骂一般不会动辄予以报复，可赛克斯先生的狗却跟它的当家人一样生一性一暴躁，在这一时刻，或许是由于感到受了莫大的侮辱吧，它也没费什么事可知论主张世界可以认识的哲学学说。唯物主义者和彻，一口便咬住了一只半长统靴，使劲摇了摇，便嗷嗷叫着缩回到一条长凳下边，正好躲过了赛克斯先生兜头砸过来的白锡酒壶。
“你还敢咬我，你还敢咬我？”赛克斯说着，一手一操一起火钳，另一只手从衣袋里掏出一把大折刀，不慌不忙地打开。“过来啊，你这天生的魔鬼。上这边来。你聋了吗？”
狗无疑听见了，因为赛克斯先生说话时用的是极其刺耳的调门中最最刺耳的一个音阶，然而它显然对于脖子上挨一刀抱有一种说不出的厌恶，所以依旧呆在原来的地方，叫得比先前更凶了，与此同时亮出牙齿，咬住火钳的一端，像一头不曾驯化的野兽似的又咬又啃。
这种抵抗反而使赛克斯先生更加怒不可遏，他双膝跪下，开始对这头畜生发动极其凶猛的进攻。狗从右边跳到左边，又从左边跳到右边，上下扑腾老子又称《道德经》、《老子五千文》。道家学派主要著作。，咆哮着，吠叫着。那汉子一边又戳又一捅一，一边赌咒发誓。这场较量正进行到对于双方都万分紧急的当儿，门忽然打开了，狗立刻丢下手持火钳和折刀的比尔赛克斯，夺路逃了出去。
常言说一个巴掌不响，吵架总得双方。赛克斯先生一见狗不肯奉陪，失望之下，立刻把狗在这场争执中的角色一交一给了刚来的人。
“老鬼，你搀和到我和我的狗中间来干吗？”赛克斯凶神恶煞地说。
“我不知道啊，亲一爱一的，我一点儿不知道。”费金低声下气地回答――来人原来正是老犹太。
“不知道，做贼心虚！”赛克斯怒吼道，“没听见嚷嚷吗？”
“比尔，一点声音也没有，我又不是死人。”犹太人回答。
“喔，是的。你没听见什么，你没听见，”赛克斯发出一声恶狠狠的冷笑，应声说道，“偷偷摸一摸地跑来跑去，就不会有人知道你是怎么出去进来的了。费金啊，半分钟以前，你要是那只狗就好了。”
“为什么？”费金强打起一副笑脸问。
“因为政一府虽说记挂你这号人的小命，你胆子连野狗的一半都赶不上，可它才不管人家高兴怎么样杀掉一只狗呢，”赛克斯一边回答，一边意味深长地合上折刀。“就这么回事。”
费金一搓一握手，在桌边坐了下来，听了朋友的这一番打趣，他假装乐呵呵地笑了笑。可是，他心里显然正烦着呢。
“一边笑去，”赛克斯说着，把火钳放回原处，带着露骨的蔑视扫了他一眼。“一边笑去。轮不到你来笑话我，除非是喝了夜酒以后。我胜你一头，费金，我他一妈一会一直这样。听着，我完了你也完了，所以你给我当心点。”
“好，好，我亲一爱一的，”犹太人说道，“我全懂，我们――我们――彼此都有好处，比尔――彼此都有好处。”
“哼，”赛克斯似乎觉得老犹太得到的好处远比自己多，“得啦，你有什么要说的？”
“保险着呢，都用坩锅熬过了。”费金答道，“你的一份我带来了，比你应得的多了许多，我亲一爱一的，不过我知道，下次你不会亏待我，再说――”
“少来那一套，”那强盗不耐烦地打断了他的话，“在什么地方？拿来。”
“行，行，比尔，别着急，别着急，”费金像哄孩子似地回答，“这儿呢。分文不少。”说着，他从怀里掏出一张旧的棉手帕，解一开角上的一个大结，取出一个棕色小纸包。赛克斯劈手夺过纸包，忙不迭地打开来，一五一十地数着里边的金镑。
“就这些，是吗？”赛克斯问。
“全在这儿了。”费金回答。
“一路上你没有打开这个包，私吞一两个？”赛克斯满怀狐疑地问道，“别装出一副受委屈的样子，这事你干过多次了，拉一下铃。”
说得明白一点，这些话下达了拉铃的命令。铃声唤来了另一个犹太人，比费金年轻一些，但面目一样可憎。
比尔赛克斯指了指空酒壶，犹太人立刻领会了这一暗示，又退出去盛酒去了，退出去之前，他与费金一交一换了一道异样的眼色，费金抬了抬眼睛，好像正等着对方的眼色似的，摇摇头作了回答，动作幅度极小，即使是一个细心旁观的第三者也几乎察觉不到。赛克斯一点也没发觉，那功夫他正弯腰系上被狗扯开的靴带。假如他注意到了的话，很可能会把两人之间一闪而过的暗号当作一个不祥之兆。
“这儿有人吗，巴尼？”费金问，目光依旧没有从地上抬起来，因为赛克斯已经抬起头来。
“一个人也没有。”巴尼回答，他的话不管是不是发自内心，一概是打鼻子里出来。
“没有一个人？”费金的嗓门里透出惊奇的意思来，也许是打算暗示巴尼，他不妨讲真话。
“除了达基小一姐，没别的人。”巴尼答道。
“南希！’赛克斯嚷了起来，“在哪儿呢？我真服了她了，这姑一娘一是天才，我要是说瞎话，让我成瞎子。”
“她在柜上点了一碟煮牛肉。”巴尼回答。
“她上这儿来，”赛克斯斟上一杯酒，说道，“叫她来。”
巴尼怯生生地看了一眼费金，像是在征得他的许可，见老犹太默默地坐着，眼睛都没抬一下，便退了出去，不多一会又领着南希进来了，这姑一娘一还戴着软帽，围着围裙，手拿篮子和大门钥匙，全副行头一样不少。
“你找到线索了，是不是，南希？’赛克斯一边问，一边把酒杯递过去。
“是的，找到了，比尔，”南希把杯里的酒一饮而尽，答道，“真把我累得够呛。那一毛一孩子病了，一床一都下不了――”
“噢，南希，亲一爱一的。”费金说着，头抬了起来。
当时，费金那赤红的眉一毛一怪里怪气地皱了起来，深陷的双眼半睁半闭，他是不是在向藏不住话的南希小一姐发出警告，这并不重要。我们需要留意的是以下事实，那就是，她忽然打住，向赛克斯先生抛过去几道妩媚的微笑，话锋一转谈起别的事情来了。过了大约十分钟，费金先生使劲咳嗽了几声，南希见他这副模样，便用围巾裹一住肩膀，说她该走了。赛克斯先生想起自己和她有一段同路，表示有意要陪陪她，两人一块儿走了，隔不多远跟着那只狗，主人刚走出视野，狗就打后院溜了出去。
赛克斯离开了酒馆，费金从屋门口探出头去，目送他走上黑沉沉的大路，握紧拳头晃了两晃，嘟嘟哝哝地骂了一句，随后又发出一声令人一毛一骨悚然的狞笑，重新在桌旁坐下来，不一会儿就被一份《通缉令》的饶有趣味的版面深深地吸引住了。
与此同时，奥立弗退斯特正走在去书摊的路上，他做梦也没想到自己与那位快活老绅士相隔咫尺。在走进克拉肯韦尔街区时，他稍稍走偏了一点，无意中拐进了一条背街，走了一半才发现错了，他知道这条路方向是对的，心想用不着折回去，所以依旧快步往前赶，那一叠书夹在胳膊下边。
他一边走，一边寻思，只要能看一眼可怜的小狄克，无论要他付出多大代价都行，自己该会感到多么高兴多么满足啊，狄克还在挨打受饿，在这一时刻兴许正在伤伤心心地哭呢。就在这时，一个年轻女子高声尖一叫起来，吓了他一大跳。“喔，我亲一爱一的弟弟！”他还没来得及抬头看清是怎么回事，便有两条胳臂伸过来，紧紧搂住了他的脖子，迫使他停住了脚步。
“哎呀，”奥立弗挣扎着嚷了起来，“放开我。是谁呀？你干吗拦着我？”
搂住他的这位年轻女子手里拎着一只小篮子和一把大门钥匙，用一大串呼天抢地的高声哭喊做了回答。
“呃，我的天啦！”年轻女子叫道，“我可找到他了！呃！奥立弗！奥立弗！你这个顽皮孩子，为了你的缘故，我吃了多少苦头。回家去。亲一爱一的，走啊。噢，我可找到他了，谢谢仁慈厚道的老天爷，我找到他了！”少一妇这么没头没脑地抱怨了一通，接着又一次放声大哭，歇斯底里发作得怪吓人的，有两个这时走到近旁的女人不由得问一个头发用板油擦得亮光光的肉铺伙计，他是不是该跑一趟，把大夫请来。肉铺伙计――他本来就在旁边看，那个样子即便不说是懒惰，也属于游手好闲――回答说，他认为没有必要。
“噢，不用，不用，不要紧，”少一妇说着，紧紧一抓住奥立弗的手。“我现在好多了。给我回家去，你这个没良心的孩子！走啊！”
“太太，什么事？”一个女人问道。
“喔，太太，”年轻女子回答，“差不多一个月以前，他从爸一妈一那儿出走了，他们可是干活卖力，受人尊敬的人。他跑去跟一伙小偷坏蛋混在一起，一妈一的心差一点就碎了。”
“小坏蛋！”一个女人说道。
“回家去，走啊，你这个小畜生。”另一个说。
“我不，”奥立弗吓坏了，回答说，“我不认识她。我没有姐姐，也没有爸爸一妈一妈一。我是一个孤儿，住在本顿维尔。”
“你们听听，他还嘴硬！”少一妇嚷嚷着。
“呀，南希！”奥立弗叫了起来，他这才第一次看清了她的脸，不由得惊愕地往后退去。
“你们瞧，他认出我来了！”南希向周围的人高声呼吁，“他自己也糊弄不过去了，哪位好人，劳驾送他回家去吧，不然的话，他真要把他爹一妈一活活气死，我的心也要给他碾碎了。”
“这他一妈一什么事啊？”一个男人从一家啤酒店里奔了出来，身后紧跟着一只白狗。“小奥立弗！回到你那可怜的母亲那儿去，小狗崽子！照直回家去。”
“我不是他们家的。我不认识他们。救命啊！救命啊！”奥立弗喊叫着，在那个男人强有力的怀抱里拼命挣扎。
“救命！”那男人也这么说，“没错，我会救你的，你这个小坏蛋。这是些什么书啊？是你偷来的吧，是不是？把书拿过来。”说着，他夺过奥立弗手里的书，使劲敲他的脑袋。
“打得好！”一个看热闹的人从一扇顶楼窗户里嚷嚷着，“非得这样才能叫他知道点厉害。”
“没错！”一个睡眼惺忪的木匠喊道，冲着顶楼窗回投过去一道赞许的眼色。
“这对他有好处！”两个女人齐声说。
“而且他也是自找的！”那个男人应声说道，又给了奥立弗一下，一把揪住他的衣领。“走啊，你这个小坏蛋！嘿，牛眼儿，过来！看见没有，小子，看见了没有！”
一个苦命的孩子，大病初愈身一体虚弱，这一连串突如其来的打击搞得他晕头转向，那只狂吠的恶犬是那样可怕，那个男人又是那样凶横，再加上围观者已经认定他确实就是大家描述的那么一个小坏蛋了，他能有什么办法！夜幕已经降临，这儿又不是一个讲理的地方，孓然一身，反抗也是徒劳的。紧接着，他被拖进了由无数一陰一暗窄小的一胡一同组成的迷宫，被迫跟着他们一块儿走了，速度之快，使他大着胆子发出的几声呼喊变得完全叫人听不清。的确，听得清听不清都无关紧要，就算是很清楚明白，也不会有人放在心上。
煤气街灯已经点亮。贝德一温一太太焦急不安地守候在敞开的门口，仆人已经二十来次跑到街上去寻找奥立弗。客厅里没有点灯，两位老绅士依然正襟危坐，面对放在他俩之间的那块怀表。