Stranica 260 [260]
OCR
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 shuddering 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 tremendous in the shrinking off of the three, that the wretched man was willing to propitiate even this lad. Accordingly he nodded, 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 accompanying them with violent gestictlations, the boy actually threw himself singlehanded upon the strong man, and in the intensity of his energy, and the suddenness 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 murderer’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 number—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 !”
