Stranica 200 [200]
OCR
148 OLIVER TWIST. sc 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. 6 What’s it worth to you?” asked the woman, as collectedly as before. “Jt may be nothing; it may be twenty unds,” replied Monks; " speak out, and et me know which.” ** Add five pounds to the sum you have named; give me five-and-twenty pounds you all I know—not before.” Monks, drawing back. “T spoke as plainly as I could,” replied Mrs. Bumble, “and it’s not a large sum either.” | “ 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 [ pay it for nothing?” asked Monks, hesitating. “You can easily take it away again,” replied the matron. “I am but a woman, alone here, and unprotected.” c Not alone, my dear, nor unprotected neither,” submitted Mr. Bumble, in a voice tremulous with fear; “ ZI am here, my dear. ble, 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 warlike demonstration, unless, indeed, against paupers, or other person or persons trained down for the purpose. c You are a fool,” said Mrs. Bumble in reply, “and had better hold your tongue.” “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. “T 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 a between them. I’m in earnest—see ere." 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, that I feel is coming up to break over the housetop, is gone, let’s hear your story.” The roar of 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 leant over the small table in their eagerness to hear, and the woman also leant forward to render her whisper audible. The sickly rays of the suspended lantern falling directly upon them, aggravated the bag a and anxiety of their countenances, which, encircled by the deepest gloom and darkness, looked ghastly in the extreme. | When this woman, that we call 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: J stood alone beside the body | when death came over it.” “Good,” said Monks, regarding her at| tentively: “ go on.” “She spoke of a young creature,” re
