Stranica 260 [260]
198
under his hat. He drew them slowly off
—blanched face, sunken eyes, hollow
cheeks, beard of three days’ growth,
wasted flesh, short thick breath—it was
the very ghost of Sikes.
He laid his hand upon a chair which
stood in the middle of the room, but shud¬
dering as he was about to drop into it,
and seeming to glance over his shoulder,
dragged it back close to the wall+as
close as it would go—ground it against
it—and sat down.
Not a word had been exchanged. He
looked from one to another in silence.
If an eye was furtively raised and met
his, it was instantly averted. When his
-hollow voice broke silence, they all three
started. They had never heard its tones
before.
‘* How came that dog here ?” he asked.
“Alone. ‘Three hours ago.”
“'To-night’s paper says that Fagin’s
taken. Is it true, or a lie?’
‘Quite true.”
They were silent again.
“Damn you all,” said Sikes, passing
his hand across his forehead. “ Have you
nothing to say to me ?”’ |
There was an uneasy movement among
them, but nobody spoke.
“You, that keep this house,” said
Sikes, turning his face to Crackit; "do
you mean to sell me, or to let me be here
till this hunt is over?’
“You must stop here, if you think it
safe," returned the person addressed, after.
some hesitation.
Sikes carried his eyes slowly up the
wall behind him, rather trying to turn
“Is it—the body—is it buried?”
They shook their heads.
c Why isn’t it?” said the man, in the
same glance behind him. ‘“ Wot do they
keep such ugly things as that above the
ground for ’—who’s that knocking ?”
Crackit intimated by a motion of his
hand, as he left the room, that there was
nothing to fear, and directly came back
with Charley Bates behind him. Sikes
sat opposite the door, so that the moment
the boy entered the room he encountered
his figure.
“ Toby,” said the boy, falling back as
‘Sikes turned his eyes towards him, “ why
didn’t you tell me this down stairs ?”
There had been something so tremen¬
dous in the shrinking off of the three, that
the wretched man was willing to propiti¬
ate even this lad. Accordingly he nod¬
ded, and made as though he would shake
hands with him.
“Let me go into some other room,”
said the boy, retreating still further.
“Why, Charley,” said Sikes, stepping
forward, “ Don’t you — don’t you know
me !"
6 Don’t come nearer me,” answered
the boy, still retreating, and looking with
horror in his eyes upon the murderer’s
face. ‘ You monster!”
The man stepped half-way, and they
looked at each other, but Sikes’s eye sunk
gradually to the ground.
“Witness you three,” cried the boy,
shaking his clenched fist, and becoming
more and more excited as he spoke.
“Witness you three—I’m not afraid of
him—if they come here after him, I’ll
give him up; I will. I tell you out at
once; he may kill me for it, if he likes,
or if he dares, but if I’m here I’ll give
him up. I’d give him up if he was to be
boiled alive. Murder! Help! Ifthere’s
the pluck of a man among you three,
you 1! help me. Murder! Help! Down
with him.”
Pouring out these cries, and accompa¬
nying them with violent gestictlations,
the boy actually threw himself single¬
handed upon the strong man, and in the
intensity of his energy, and the sudden¬
ness of the surprise, brought him heavily
to the ground.
The three spectators seemed quite
transfixed and stupefied. They offered
no interference, and the boy and man
rolled on the ground together, the former,
heedless of the blows that showered upon
him, wrenching his hand tighter and
tighter in the garments about the mur¬
derer’s breast, and never ceasing to call
for help with all his might.
The contest, however, was too unequal
to last long. Sikes had him down, and
his knee was on his throat, when Crackit
pulled him back with a look of alarm,
and pointed to the window. ‘There were
lights gleaming below, voices in loud and
earnest conversation, the tramp of hurried
footsteps—endless they seemed in num¬
ber—crossing the nearest wooden bridge.
One man on horseback seemed to be
among the crowd, for there was the noise
of hoofs rattling on the uneven pavement;
the gleam of light increased, the foot:
steps came more thickly and noisily on.
Then came a loud knocking at the door,
and then a hoarse murmur from such a
multitude of angry voices as would have
made the boldest quail.
“ Help!” shrieked the boy, in a voice
that rent the air. “He’s here; he’s
Break down the door !”