Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens (smart books to read .TXT) 📕

“Upon my word,” he said, making a halt, after a great number of very rapid turns, “I hardly know what to do.”

“Surely,” said Rose, “the poor child’s story, faithfully repeated to these men, will be sufficient to exonerate him.”

“I doubt it, my dear young lady,” said the doctor, shaking his head. “I don’t think it would exonerate him, either with them, or with legal functionaries of a higher grade. What is he, after all, they would say? A runaway. Judged by mere worldly considerations and probabilities, his story is a very doubtful one.”

“You believe it, surely?” interrupted Rose.

“I believe it, strange as it is; and perhaps I may be an old fool for doing so,” rejoined the doctor; “but I don’t think it is exactly the tale for a practical police-officer, nevertheless.”

“Why not?” demanded Rose.

“Because, my pretty cross-examiner,” replied the doctor: “because, viewed with their eyes, there are many ugly points about it; he can only prove the parts that look ill, and none of those that look well. Confound the fellows, they will have the why and the wherefore, and will take nothing for granted. On his own showing, you see, he has been the companion of thieves for some time past; he has been carried to a police-officer, on a charge of picking a gentleman’s pocket; he has been taken away, forcibly, from that gentleman’s house, to a place which he cannot describe or point out, and of the situation of which he has not the remotest idea. He is brought down to Chertsey, by men who seem to have taken a violent fancy to him, whether he will or no; and is put through a window to rob a house; and then, just at the very moment when he is going to alarm the inmates, and so do the very thing that would set him all to rights, there rushes into the way, a blundering dog of a half-bred butler, and shoots him! As if on purpose to prevent his doing any good for himself! Don’t you see all this?”

“I see it, of course,” replied Rose, smiling at the doctor’s impetuosity; “but still I do not see anything in it, to criminate the poor child.”

“No,” replied the doctor; “of course not! Bless the bright eyes of your sex! They never see, whether for good or bad, more than one side of any question; and that is, always, the one which first presents itself to them.”

Having given vent to this result of experience, the doctor put his hands into his pockets, and walked up and down the room with even greater rapidity than before.

“The more I think of it,” said the doctor, “the more I see that it will occasion endless trouble and difficulty if we put these men in possession of the boy’s real story. I am certain it will not be believed; and even if they can do nothing to him in the end, still the dragging it forward, and giving publicity to all the doubts that will be cast upon it, must interfere, materially, with your benevolent plan of rescuing him from misery.”

“Oh! what is to be done?” cried Rose. “Dear, dear! why did they send for these people?”

“Why, indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Maylie. “I would not have had them here, for the world.”

“All I know is,” said Mr. Losberne, at last: sitting down with a kind of desperate calmness, “that we must try and carry it off with a bold face. The object is a good one, and that must be our excuse. The boy has strong symptoms of fever upon him, and is in no condition to be talked to any more; that’s one comfort. We must make the best of it; and if bad be the best, it is no fault of ours. Come in!”

“Well, master,” said Blathers, entering the room followed by his colleague, and making the door fast, before he said any more. “This warn’t a put-up thing.”

“And what the devil’s a put-up thing?” demanded the doctor, impatiently.

“We call it a put-up robbery, ladies,” said Blathers, turning to them, as if he pitied their ignorance, but had a contempt for the doctor’s, “when the servants is in it.”

“Nobody suspected them, in this case,” said Mrs. Maylie.

“Wery likely not, ma’am,” replied Blathers; “but they might have been in it, for all that.”

“More likely on that wery account,” said Duff.

“We find it was a town hand,” said Blathers, continuing his report; “for the style of work is first-rate.”

“Wery pretty indeed it is,” remarked Duff, in an undertone.

“There was two of ’em in it,” continued Blathers; “and they had a boy with ’em; that’s plain from the size of the window. That’s all to be said at present. We’ll see this lad that you’ve got upstairs at once, if you please.”

“Perhaps they will take something to drink first, Mrs. Maylie?” said the doctor: his face brightening, as if some new thought had occurred to him.

“Oh! to be sure!” exclaimed Rose, eagerly. “You shall have it immediately, if you will.”

“Why, thank you, miss!” said Blathers, drawing his coat-sleeve across his mouth; “it’s dry work, this sort of duty. Anythink that’s handy, miss; don’t put yourself out of the way, on our accounts.”

“What shall it be?” asked the doctor, following the young lady to the sideboard.

“A little drop of spirits, master, if it’s all the same,” replied Blathers. “It’s a cold ride from London, ma’am; and I always find that spirits comes home warmer to the feelings.”

This interesting communication was addressed to Mrs. Maylie, who received it very graciously. While it was being conveyed to her, the doctor slipped out of the room.

“Ah!” said Mr. Blathers: not holding his wineglass by the stem, but grasping the bottom between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand: and placing it in front of his chest; “I have seen a good many pieces of business like this, in my time, ladies.”

“That crack down in the back lane at Edmonton, Blathers,” said Mr. Duff, assisting his colleague’s memory.

“That was something