导读：LOOKSAFTEROLIVER,ANDPROCEEDSWITHHISADVENTURES'Wolvestearyourthroats!'mutteredSik...

LOOKS AFTER OLIVER, AND PROCEEDS WITH HIS ADVENTURES

'Wolves tear your throats!' muttered Sikes, grinding his teeth. 'I wish I was among some of you; you'd howl the hoarser for it.'

As Sikes growled forth this imprecation, with the most desperate ferocity that his desperate nature was capable of, he rested the body of the wounded boy across his bended knee; and turned his head, for an instant, to look back at his pursuers.

There was little to be made out, in the mist and darkness; but the loud shouting of men vibrated through the air, and the barking of the neighbouring dogs, roused by the sound of the alarm bell, resounded in every direction.

'Stop, you white-livered hound!' cried the robber, shouting after Toby Crackit, who, making the best use of his long legs, was already ahead. 'Stop!'

The repetition of the word, brought Toby to a dead stand-still. For he was not quite satisfied that he was beyond the range of pistol-shot; and Sikes was in no mood to be played with.

'Bear a hand with the boy,' cried Sikes, beckoning furiously to his confederate. 'Come back!'

Toby made a show of returning; but ventured, in a low voice, broken for want of breath, to intimate considerable reluctance as he came slowly along.

'Quicker!' cried Sikes, laying the boy in a dry ditch at his feet, and drawing a pistol from his pocket. 'Don't play booty with me.'

At this moment the noise grew louder. Sikes, again looking round, could discern that the men who had given chase were already climbing the gate of the field in which he stood; and that a couple of dogs were some paces in advance of them.

'It's all up, Bill!' cried Toby; 'drop the kid, and show 'em your heels.' With this parting advice, Mr. Crackit, preferring the chance of being shot by his friend, to the certainty of being taken by his enemies, fairly turned tail, and darted off at full speed. Sikes clenched his teeth; took one look around; threw over the prostrate form of Oliver, the cape in which he had been hurriedly muffled; ran along the front of the hedge, as if to distract the attention of those behind, from the spot where the boy lay; paused, for a second, before another hedge which met it at right angles; and whirling his pistol high into the air, cleared it at a bound, and was gone.

'Ho, ho, there!' cried a tremulous voice in the rear. 'Pincher! Neptune! Come here, come here!'

The dogs, who, in common with their masters, seemed to have no particular relish for the sport in which they were engaged, readily answered to the command. Three men, who had by this time advanced some distance into the field, stopped to take counsel together.

'My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my _orders_, is,' said the fattest man of the party, 'that we 'mediately go home again.'

'I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr. Giles,' said a shorter man; who was by no means of a slim figure, and who was very pale in the face, and very polite: as frightened men frequently are.

'I shouldn't wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen,' said the third, who had called the dogs back, 'Mr. Giles ought to know.'

'Certainly,' replied the shorter man; 'and whatever Mr. Giles says, it isn't our place to contradict him. No, no, I know my sitiwation! Thank my stars, I know my sitiwation.' To tell the truth, the little man _did_ seem to know his situation, and to know perfectly well that it was by no means a desirable one; for his teeth chattered in his head as he spoke.

'You are afraid, Brittles,' said Mr. Giles.

'I an't,' said Brittles.

'You are,' said Giles.

'You're a falsehood, Mr. Giles,' said Brittles.

'You're a lie, Brittles,' said Mr. Giles.

Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles's taunt; and Mr. Giles's taunt had arisen from his indignation at having the responsibility of going home again, imposed upon himself under cover of a compliment. The third man brought the dispute to a close, most philosophically.

'I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen,' said he, 'we're all afraid.'

'Speak for yourself, sir,' said Mr. Giles, who was the palest of the party.

'So I do,' replied the man. 'It's natural and proper to be afraid, under such circumstances. I am.'

'So am I,' said Brittles; 'only there's no call to tell a man he is, so bounceably.'

These frank admissions softened Mr. Giles, who at once owned that _he_ was afraid; upon which, they all three faced about, and ran back again with the completest unanimity, until Mr. Giles (who had the shortest wind of the party, as was encumbered with a pitchfork) most handsomely insisted on stopping, to make an apology for his hastiness of speech.

'But it's wonderful,' said Mr. Giles, when he had explained, 'what a man will do, when his blood is up. I should have committed murder--I know I should--if we'd caught one of them rascals.'

As the other two were impressed with a similar presentiment; and as their blood, like his, had all gone down again; some speculation ensued upon the cause of this sudden change in their temperament.

'I know what it was,' said Mr. Giles; 'it was the gate.'

'I shouldn't wonder if it was,' exclaimed Brittles, catching at the idea.

'You may depend upon it,' said Giles, 'that that gate stopped the flow of the excitement. I felt all mine suddenly going away, as I was climbing over it.'

By a remarkable coincidence, the other two had been visited with the same unpleasant sensation at that precise moment. It was quite obvious, therefore, that it was the gate; especially as there was no doubt regarding the time at which the change had taken place, because all three remembered that they had come in sight of the robbers at the instant of its occurance.

This dialogue was held between the two men who had surprised the burglars, and a travelling tinker who had been sleeping in an outhouse, and who had been roused, together with his two mongrel curs, to join in the pursuit. Mr. Giles acted in the double capacity of butler and steward to the old lady of the mansion; Brittles was a lad of all-work: who, having entered her service a mere child, was treated as a promising young boy still, though he was something past thirty.

Encouraging each other with such converse as this; but, keeping very close together, notwithstanding, and looking apprehensively round, whenever a fresh gust rattled through the boughs; the three men hurried back to a tree, behind which they had left their *, lest its light should inform the thieves in what direction to fire. Catching up the light, they made the best of their way home, at a good round trot; and long after their dusky forms had ceased to be discernible, the light might have been seen twinkling and dancing in the distance, like some exhalation of the damp and gloomy atmosphere through which it was swiftly borne.

The air grew colder, as day came slowly on; and the mist rolled along the ground like a dense cloud of smoke. The grass was wet; the pathways, and low places, were all mire and water; the damp breath of an unwholesome wind went languidly by, with a hollow moaning. Still, Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spot where Sikes had left him.

Morning drew on apace. The air become more sharp and piercing, as its first dull hue--the death of night, rather than the birth of day--glimmered faintly in the sky. The objects which had looked dim and terrible in the darkness, grew more and more defined, and gradually resolved into their familiar shapes. The rain came down, thick and fast, and pattered noisily among the leafless bushes. But, Oliver felt it not, as it beat against him; for he still lay stretched, helpless and unconscious, on his bed of clay.

At length, a low cry of pain broke the stillness that prevailed; and uttering it, the boy awoke. His left arm, rudely bandaged in a shawl, hung heavy and useless at his side; the bandage was saturated with blood. He was so weak, that he could scarcely raise himself into a sitting posture; when he had done so, he looked feebly round for help, and groaned with pain. Trembling in every joint, from cold and exhaustion, he made an effort to stand upright; but, shuddering from head to foot, fell prostrate on the ground.

After a short return of the stupor in which he had been so long plunged, Oliver: urged by a creeping sickness at his heart, which seemed to warn him that if he lay there, he must surely die: got upon his feet, and essayed to walk. His head was dizzy, and he staggered to and fro like a drunken man. But he kept up, nevertheless, and, with his head drooping languidly on his breast, went stumbling onward, he knew not whither.

And now, hosts of bewildering and confused ideas came crowding on his mind. He seemed to be still walking between Sikes and Crackit, who were angrily disputing--for the very words they said, sounded in his ears; and when he caught his own attention, as it were, by making some violent effort to save himself from falling, he found that he was talking to them. Then, he was alone with Sikes, plodding on as on the previous day; and as shadowy people passed them, he felt the robber's grasp upon his wrist. Suddenly, he started back at the report of firearms; there rose into the air, loud cries and shouts; lights gleamed before his eyes; all was noise and tumult, as some unseen hand bore him hurriedly away. Through all these rapid visions, there ran an undefined, uneasy consciousness of pain, which wearied and tormented him incessantly.

Thus he staggered on, creeping, almost mechanically, between the bars of gates, or through hedge-gaps as they came in his way, until he reached a road. Here the rain began to fall so heavily, that it roused him.

He looked about, and saw that at no great distance there was a house, which perhaps he could reach. Pitying his condition, they might have compassion on him; and if they did not, it would be better, he thought, to die near human beings, than in the lonely open fields. He summoned up all his strength for one last trial, and bent his faltering steps towards it.

As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling come over him that he had seen it before. He remembered nothing of its details; but the shape and aspect of the building seemed familiar to him.

That garden wall! On the grass inside, he had fallen on his knees last night, and prayed the two men's mercy. It was the very house they had attempted to rob.

Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognised the place, that, for the instant, he forgot the agony of his wound, and thought only of flight. Flight! He could scarcely stand: and if he were in full possession of all the best powers of his slight and youthful frame, whither could he fly? He pushed against the garden-gate; it was unlocked, and swung open on its hinges. He tottered across the lawn; climbed the steps; knocked faintly at the door; and, his whole strength failing him, sunk down against one of the pillars of the little portico.

It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, and the tinker, were recruiting themselves, after the fatigues and terrors of the night, with tea and sundries, in the kitchen. Not that it was Mr. Giles's habit to admit to too great familiarity the humbler servants: towards whom it was rather his wont to deport himself with a lofty affability, which, while it gratified, could not fail to remind them of his superior position in society. But, death, fires, and burglary, make all men equals; so Mr. Giles sat with his legs stretched out before the kitchen fender, leaning his left arm on the table, while, with his right, he illustrated a circumstantial and minute account of the robbery, to which his bearers (but especially the cook and housemaid, who were of the party) listened with breathless interest.

'It was about half-past two,' said Mr. Giles, 'or I wouldn't swear that it mightn't have been a little nearer three, when I woke up, and, turning round in my bed, as it might be so, (here Mr. Giles turned round in his chair, and pulled the corner of the table-cloth over him to imitate bed-clothes,) I fancied I heerd a noise.'

At this point of the narrative the cook turned pale, and asked the housemaid to shut the door: who asked Brittles, who asked the tinker, who pretended not to hear.

'--Heerd a noise,' continued Mr. Giles. 'I says, at first, "This is illusion"; and was composing myself off to sleep, when I heerd the noise again, distinct.'

'What sort of a noise?' asked the cook.

'A kind of a busting noise,' replied Mr. Giles, looking round him.

'More like the noise of powdering a iron bar on a nutmeg-grater,' suggested Brittles.

'It was, when _you_ heerd it, sir,' rejoined Mr. Giles; 'but, at this time, it had a busting sound. I turned down the clothes'; continued Giles, rolling back the table-cloth, 'sat up in bed; and listened.'

The cook and housemaid simultaneously ejaculated 'Lor!' and drew their chairs closer together.

'I heerd it now, quite apparent,' resumed Mr. Giles. '"Somebody," I says, "is forcing of a door, or window; what's to be done? I'll call up that poor lad, Brittles, and save him from being murdered in his bed; or his throat," I says, "may be cut from his right ear to his left, without his ever knowing it."'

Here, all eyes were turned upon Brittles, who fixed his upon the speaker, and stared at him, with his mouth wide open, and his face expressive of the most unmitigated horror.

'I tossed off the clothes,' said Giles, throwing away the table-cloth, and looking very hard at the cook and housemaid, 'got softly out of bed; drew on a pair of--'

'Ladies present, Mr. Giles,' murmured the tinker.

'--Of _shoes_, sir,' said Giles, turning upon him, and laying great emphasis on the word; 'seized the loaded pistol that always goes upstairs with the plate-basket; and walked on tiptoes to his room. "Brittles," I says, when I had woke him, "don't be frightened!"'

'So you did,' observed Brittles, in a low voice.

'"We're dead men, I think, Brittles," I says,' continued Giles; '"but don't be frightened."'

'_Was_ he frightened?' asked the cook.

'Not a bit of it,' replied Mr. Giles. 'He was as firm--ah! pretty near as firm as I was.'

'I should have died at once, I'm sure, if it had been me,' observed the housemaid.

'You're a woman,' retorted Brittles, plucking up a little.

'Brittles is right,' said Mr. Giles, nodding his head, approvingly; 'from a woman, nothing else was to be expected. We, being men, took a dark * that was standing on Brittle's hob, and groped our way downstairs in the pitch dark,--as it might be so.'

Mr. Giles had risen from his seat, and taken two steps with his eyes shut, to accompany his description with appropriate action, when he started violently, in common with the rest of the company, and hurried back to his chair. The cook and housemaid screamed.

'It was a knock,' said Mr. Giles, assuming perfect serenity. 'Open the door, somebody.'

Nobody moved.

'It seems a strange sort of a thing, a knock coming at such a time in the morning,' said Mr. Giles, surveying the pale faces which surrounded him, and looking very blank himself; 'but the door must be opened. Do you hear, somebody?'

Mr. Giles, as he spoke, looked at Brittles; but that young man, being naturally modest, probably considered himself nobody, and so held that the inquiry could not have any application to him; at all events, he tendered no reply. Mr. Giles directed an appealing glance at the tinker; but he had suddenly fallen asleep. The women were out of the question.

'If Brittles would rather open the door, in the presence of witnesses,' said Mr. Giles, after a short silence, 'I am ready to make one.'

'So am I,' said the tinker, waking up, as suddenly as he had fallen asleep.

Brittles capitulated on these terms; and the party being somewhat re-assured by the discovery (made on throwing open the shutters) that it was now broad day, took their way upstairs; with the dogs in front. The two women, who were afraid to stay below, brought up the rear. By the advice of Mr. Giles, they all talked very loud, to warn any evil-disposed person outside, that they were strong in numbers; and by a master-stoke of policy, originating in the brain of the same ingenious gentleman, the dogs' tails were well pinched, in the hall, to make them bark savagely.

These precautions having been taken, Mr. Giles held on fast by the tinker's arm (to prevent his running away, as he pleasantly said), and gave the word of command to open the door. Brittles obeyed; the group, peeping timorously over each other's shoulders, beheld no more formidable object than poor little Oliver Twist, speechless and exhausted, who raised his heavy eyes, and mutely solicited their compassion.

'A boy!' exclaimed Mr. Giles, valiantly, pushing the tinker into the background. 'What's the matter with the--eh?--Why--Brittles--look here--don't you know?'

Brittles, who had got behind the door to open it, no sooner saw Oliver, than he uttered a loud cry. Mr. Giles, seizing the boy by one leg and one arm (fortunately not the broken limb) lugged him straight into the hall, and deposited him at full length on the floor thereof.

'Here he is!' bawled Giles, calling in a state of great excitement, up the staircase; 'here's one of the thieves, ma'am! Here's a thief, miss! Wounded, miss! I shot him, miss; and Brittles held the light.'

'--In a *, miss,' cried Brittles, applying one hand to the side of his mouth, so that his voice might travel the better.

The two women-servants ran upstairs to carry the intelligence that Mr. Giles had captured a robber; and the tinker busied himself in endeavouring to restore Oliver, lest he should die before he could be hanged. In the midst of all this noise and commotion, there was heard a sweet female voice, which quelled it in an instant.

'Giles!' whispered the voice from the stair-head.

'I'm here, miss,' replied Mr. Giles. 'Don't be frightened, miss; I ain't much injured. He didn't make a very desperate resistance, miss! I was soon too many for him.'

'Hush!' replied the young lady; 'you frighten my aunt as much as the thieves did. Is the poor creature much hurt?'

'Wounded desperate, miss,' replied Giles, with indescribable complacency.

'He looks as if he was a-going, miss,' bawled Brittles, in the same manner as before. 'Wouldn't you like to come and look at him, miss, in case he should?'

'Hush, pray; there's a good man!' rejoined the lady. 'Wait quietly only one instant, while I speak to aunt.'

With a footstep as soft and gentle as the voice, the speaker tripped away. She soon returned, with the direction that the wounded person was to be carried, carefully, upstairs to Mr. Giles's room; and that Brittles was to saddle the pony and betake himself instantly to Chertsey: from which place, he was to despatch, with all speed, a constable and doctor.

'But won't you take one look at him, first, miss?' asked Mr. Giles, with as much pride as if Oliver were some bird of rare plumage, that he had skilfully brought down. 'Not one little peep, miss?'

'Not now, for the world,' replied the young lady. 'Poor fellow! Oh! treat him kindly, Giles for my sake!'

The old servant looked up at the speaker, as she turned away, with a glance as proud and admiring as if she had been his own child. Then, bending over Oliver, he helped to carry him upstairs, with the care and solicitude of a woman.

   “让狼咬断你们的脖子。”赛克斯小声地说，牙齿咬得格格直响。“有朝一日你们谁也躲不掉，你们会把嗓子喊得更哑的。”

    赛克斯骂骂咧咧地把这一番诅咒发泄出来，脸上那副不顾死活的样子充分体现了他的那种不顾死活的脾气。他把受伤的奥立弗横放在自己的膝盖上，口过头去看看后面的追兵。

    夜黑雾浓，什么东西也辨别不出来，只有嘈杂喧闹的呼喊声在空中震响，邻近的狗被告急的钟声惊醒，此呼彼应地吠叫起来道术中国古代哲学范畴。①指关于宇宙人生本原的学问。，四下里响成一片。

    “站住，你这个胆小鬼！”这个强盗见托比格拉基特撒开两条长腿，已经抢在了前边，便厉声喝道。“站住！”

    听到第二声吆喝，托比猝然停了下来。他还不敢肯定自己已经脱离了手枪的射程，赛克斯可是根本没有心思闹着玩的。

    “帮忙把这小子弄走，”赛克斯杀气腾腾地向同伙打了个手势。“回来！”

    托比做出一副要折回来的样子，慢吞吞地朝这边走来，却大着胆子表示自己老大不情愿回去，声音不大，又因为喘气，说得断断续续。

    “快些！”赛克斯叫道，他把奥立弗放在脚下一条干枯的水沟里，从衣袋里拔出一支手枪。“别跟我耍滑头。”

    就在这时，喧闹声变得更嘈杂了。赛克斯又一次扭头看了看，可以断定追兵正在爬他所处的这一片田野的篱笆门，有两只狗跑在头里。

    “全完了，比尔！”托比喊道，“扔下这孩子，赶快溜。”格拉基特先生情愿到朋友的枪口底下去碰碰运气，也不愿意乖乖落入敌人手中，说完这句临别赠言，便正大光明地开了小差，一溜烟跑掉了。赛克斯咬了咬牙，又回头看了一眼，把刚才胡乱裹住奥立弗的那件披风往直挺挺倒在地上的孩子身上一扔，顺着篱笆墙跑开了，看样子是想把后边的人从孩子躺着的地点引开。他在与上述地点垂直相交的另一道篱笆跟前骤然停了一下，高举手枪在空中画了一个圈，越过篱笆逃走了。

    “嗨，嗨，在那边！”一个声音哆哆嗦嗦地在后边嚷道，“品切尔！尼普顿！过来，过来！”

    这两只狗跟它们的主人一样，似乎对正在进行的这场比赛并没有什么特别的兴趣，爽爽快快地听从了命令。这功夫，三个已经在这片田野上跑了一段距离的男人停止了搜索，聚在一块儿商量起来。

    “我的意思，或者至少应该说，我的命令吧，”一行中最胖的一位说道，“我们还是赶紧回去。”

    “凯尔司先生认可的事我没有不赞同的。”一个身材较矮但绝对不能算单薄的男人说，他脸色非常苍白，举止文雅，一般受到惊吓的人常常就是这副模样。

    “绅士们，我可不愿意显得没有风度，”第三位已经把狗唤了回来，说道。“凯尔司先生拿主意就是了。”

    “当然，”矮个子回答，“无论凯尔司先生说什么，我们都不会反驳。不，不，我清楚自己的处境。谢天谢地，我很清楚自己的处境。”老实说，这小个子的确好像很明白自己的处境，也完全明白这实在不能算一种令人向往的处境，说话间，他的牙齿一直咔哒咔哒响个不停。

    “你害怕了，布里特尔斯。”凯尔司先生说道。

    “我不怕。”布里特尔斯说。

    “你怕了，布里特尔斯。”凯尔司说。

    “你这是瞎扯，凯尔司先生。”布里特尔斯说道。

    “你撒谎，布里特尔斯。”凯尔司先生说。

    眼下这四句你来我往的顶撞起因于凯尔司先生的嘲弄，而凯尔司先生出口伤人是因为感到气愤，别人用一句恭维话作掩护，就把再次回去的责任推到自己头上了。第三个人以十足哲学家的风范结束了这场争论。

    “我来说说是怎么回事，绅士们，”他说道，“我们都害怕了。”

    “说你自个儿吧，先生。”凯尔司先生说，一行中脸色最苍白的要算他了。

    “是说我自己，”第三位答道，“在这种情形下，感觉害怕是很自然的，没有什么不对。我的确害怕了。”

    “我也一样，”布里特尔斯说，“只不过压根没有必要那样虚张声势，指责别人害怕了。”

    这一坦率的自白使凯尔司先生的心肠软了下来，他当即承认自己也很害怕，于是三个人一起转过身来，步调一致地往回跑去，跑着跑着，凯尔司先生（在同伴当中他最气短，又拖着一把干草叉），极其大度地主张停一停，让他为刚才出言不逊表示一下歉意。

    “不过这事也真奇怪，”凯尔司先生解释完毕之后说道，“一个人只要血气上来了，什么事都干得出来。我恐怕会犯谋杀罪――这我知道――如果我们逮住那帮恶棍当中的一个的话。”

    另外两位也有同感，他们的血气也和他一样都消退下去了，跟着便开始思考气质上的这种突变原因何在。

    “我知道是怎么回事了，”凯尔司先生说，“准是那道篱笆门。”

    “真要是它，我并不觉得奇怪。”布里特尔斯大声疾呼，他立即采纳了这个主意。

    “你尽管相信好了，”凯尔司说道，“有那扇门挡着，火气才没撞上来。我感觉到了，我正要从门上爬过去，火气突然烟消云散了。”

    真是无独有偶，另外两位在同一时刻也经历了同一种令人不愉快的感受。显而易见，问题在于那道篱笆门，尤其是考虑到发生这一突变的时间是不容置疑的，因为三个人都回忆起了，他们正是在突变发生的一瞬间出现在强盗眼前的。

    谈话的是三个人，其中有那两个吓跑了夜贼的男子，还有一个是走街串巷的补锅匠。补锅匠本来正在外屋睡觉，给叫醒过来，带着他的两只杂牌狗参加了这场追击。凯尔司先生身兼二职，是这家老太太手下的领班和管家。布里特尔斯是一个小听用，自幼便替老太太当差，至今仍被当成一个没有出息的毛孩子，尽管他已经三十出头了。

    三个人用诸如此类的叙谈相互壮胆，但却依然紧紧地挤在一块儿，每当一阵疾风刮过，树枝飒飒作响，他们仁都要心神不定地直往后看。他们事先便把提灯留在树后，以免灯光指示强盗往哪个方向开火。他们窜到那棵树的后边，抓起提灯，一溜小跑地奔回家去。他们那灰蒙蒙的身影早已无法辨认，还可以看见灯光在远处闪烁摇曳，仿佛潮湿沉闷的空气正一刻不停地喷吐出一团团磷火似的。

    白昼缓慢地来临，四周更加寒气袭人。雾好似一团法浊的烟云，在地面滚来滚去。草湿漉漉的，小路和低洼的地方积满了泥水。腥臭腐败的风夹着潮气，呜呜地呻吟着，无精打采地一路刮过。奥立弗倒在赛克斯甩下他的那个地点，依然一动不动，昏迷不醒。

    天将破晓，第一抹暗淡模糊的色彩――与其说这是白昼的诞生，不如说是黑夜的死亡――软弱无力地在空中闪射着微光，空气变得分外凛冽刺骨。黑暗中看上去模糊可怕的物体变得越来越清晰，逐渐恢复了为人熟知的形状。一阵骤雨僻哩啪啦地打在光秃秃的灌木丛中。尽管急雨打在身上，奥立弗却没有感觉到，他仍然直挺挺地躺在自己的泥土床上，无依无靠，不省人事。

    终于，一阵痛苦而微弱的哭声打破了四周的沉寂，孩子发出一阵呻吟，醒过来了。他的左臂给用一张披巾草草包扎了一下，沉甸甸地垂在身边，动弹不得，披巾上浸透了鲜血。他浑身瘫软，几乎无法坐起来。等到果真坐起来的时候，他吃力地掉过头去，指望有人救助，却不禁疼得呻吟起来。由于寒冷和疲劳，他身上的每一处关节都在哆嗦。他挣扎着站起身来，然而，从头到脚抖个不停，又直挺挺地倒了下去。

    奥立弗从长时间昏迷中苏醒过来不久，心中突然生出一种有蠕虫爬过的恶心感，好像是在警告他，如果他躺在那儿，就必死无疑。他站起来，试探着迈开脚步。他脑子里一片晕眩，像醉汉一样踉踉跄跄走了几步。尽管如此，他还是坚持住了，脑袋软软地搭拉在胸前，磕磕绊绊朝前走去，究竟去哪儿，他自己也不知道。

    这时，许许多多纷乱迷惘的印象涌上了他的心头。他仿佛依然走在赛克斯与格拉基特之间，他俩还在气冲冲地斗嘴――他们讲的那些话又在他耳边响起。他狠命挣扎了一下，才没有倒在地上，这下好像醒悟过来了，发现自己正在跟他们说话。接着就是单独和赛克斯在一块儿，深一脚浅一脚地走路，跟前一天的情况一模一样。幻影一般的人从他们身边走过，他感觉到那强盗紧紧抓住他的手腕。突然，开枪了，他连连后退，喧闹的喊声叫声在空中回荡，灯光在他的眼前闪动，四周闹闹嚷嚷，骚动不已，就在这时，一只看不见的手领着他匆匆走开。一种说不清楚的，令人不安的疼痛感穿透所有这些浮光掠影，一刻不停地侵扰、折磨着他。

    就这样，他跌跌撞撞地走着，几乎是无意识地从挡住去路的大门横木的空档或者篱笆缝隙之间爬过去，来到一条路上。到了这里，雨下大了，他才醒悟过来。

    他向四周看了看，发现不远的地方有一幢房子，或许他还有力气走到那儿。里边的人看他这份处境，说不定会可怜他的。就算他们不怜悯吧，他想，死的时候旁边有人总比死在寂寞的旷野里好一些。这是最后的考验，他使出全身力气，颤颤悠悠地朝那所房子走去。

    他一步步走近那所房子，一种似曾相识的感觉油然而生，有关的细节他一点也回忆不起了，但这座建筑物的式样和外观好像在哪儿见过。

    那一道花园围墙。昨天晚上他就是跪在墙内的草地上，恳求那两个家伙发发慈悲的。这就是他们试图抢劫的那户人家。

    奥立弗认出了这个地方，一阵恐惧不由得袭上心头，在那一瞬间，他甚至忘记了伤口的疼痛，只有逃走这个念头。逃走！他连站都站不稳，就算他那稚嫩瘦小的身体处于精力充沛的状况，又能逃到哪儿去？他推了推花园门，门没有上锁，一下打开了。他蹒跚着穿过草地，登上台阶，怯生生地敲了敲门，这时他已经浑身无力，靠在这个小门廊里的一根柱子上，晕了过去。

    碰巧在这个时候，凯尔司先生、布里特尔斯、还有那个补锅匠，因为辛劳一夜，又担惊受怕了一夜，正在厨房里享用茶点以及各种食物，以便提神补气。依照凯尔司先生的脾气，他历来不赞成与低一级的用人过于亲近，比较习惯于以一种高尚的和蔼气派与下边的人相处，使他们既不见怪，又不至于忘记他在外界的地位比他们高。然而丧事、火警和劫案能把所有的人拉平，所以凯尔司先生坐在厨房炉档前边，伸直双腿，左胳膊支在桌子上，右手比比划划，正在讲述这次劫案的详细情节，他的几位听众（尤其是厨娘和女仆）听得津津有味，连大气也不敢出。

    “大概是在两点半钟左右，”凯尔司先生说道，“没准是在靠近三点的时候，我也不敢肯定，我当时醒了，在床上翻了个身，就像现在这样（说到这里，凯尔司先生在椅子里转了个方向，又把桌布一角拉过来搭在身上，当作被子），我好像听到了一点响动。”

    故事正讲到这个节骨眼上，厨娘的脸色唰地变白了，请女仆去把门关上，女仆转请布里特尔斯代劳，布里特尔斯要补锅匠去关门，这位却假装没有听见。

    “――听到了一点响动，”凯尔司先生继续说道，“开头我还说，这是幻觉，我正想安安心心再睡一觉，又听到了那个声音，听得清清楚楚。”

    “是一种什么响声？”厨子问。

    “是一种什么东西破了的声音。”凯尔司先生回答时前后看了看。

    “更像是铁棍在肉豆蔻粉碎机上磨擦的声音。”布里特尔斯提出了自己的见解。

    “那是你听到的时候了，老兄，”凯尔司先生答道，“不过，在这个时候，还是一种什么东西破了的声音。我掀开被子，”凯尔司推开桌布，接着说道，“从床上坐起来，支起耳朵听着。”

    厨娘和女仆同对哟的一声叫了起来，把椅子拉得更近了。

    “这一次我可听得再明白不过了，”凯尔司先生继续说，“‘一定有人，’我说，‘在砸门，或者窗户，怎么办呢？我得把那苦命的小家伙，就是说把布里特尔斯叫醒，免得他给人杀死在床上。不然的话，’我说，‘他没准气管叫人家从右耳到左耳这么割下来还不知道呢。’”

    这时，所有的目光齐刷刷地转向了布里特尔斯，他目瞪口呆地望着那位说书人，满脸都是绝对纯正的恐怖神色。

    “我把被子掀到一边，”凯尔司摔开桌布，神色异常严峻地看着回娘和女仆。“轻手轻脚下了床，穿上――”

    “有女士在座呢，凯尔司先生。”补锅匠小声地说。

    “一双鞋，老兄，”凯尔司朝他掉过脸来，特意在“鞋”这个词上加重了语气。“操起一把装足了药的手枪，我每天都要把这家伙连同餐具篮子一道拿上楼去，我踮起脚尖走进他的房间。‘布里特尔斯，’我把他叫醒过来，‘别怕。’”

    “你是这么说的。”布里特尔斯低声说了一句。

    “‘我们恐怕是没命了，布里特尔斯，’我说，”凯尔司继续说道，“‘但是别害怕。’”

    “他是不是害怕了？”厨娘问。

    “一点没怕，”凯尔司先生回答，“他很坚决――啊！差不多跟我一样坚决。”

    “要是换上我，我保准会当场吓死。”女仆说道。

    “你是妇道人家嘛。”布里特尔斯略略振作了一些，应声说道。

    “布里特尔斯说对了，”凯尔司先生赞许地点了点头，“对于妇道人家，没什么可指望的。我们是男人，提上一盏遮光灯，灯就放在布里特尔斯屋里的壁炉保温架上边，黑咕隆咚地摸着走下楼――就像这个样子。”

    凯尔司先生从椅子上站起来，闭着眼睛走了两步，以便给自己的描述配上相应的动作，就在这时，他跟别的同伴一样吓了一大跳，慌慌张张地奔回椅子上。厨娘和女仆尖叫起来。

    “有人敲门，”凯尔司先生装出若无其事的样子说道，“哪位去把门打开。”

    谁也不动弹。

    “这倒真是件怪事，老大清早跑来敲门，”凯尔司先生将周围一张张煞白的面孔依次看过来，他自己也面如死灰。“可门总得开啊，听见没有，那谁？”

    凯尔司先生一边说，一边拿眼睛盯住布里特尔斯，小伙子生性十分谦虚，也许考虑到自己是一个无名小卒，所以认为这个问题和自己毫无关系，总之，他避而不答。凯尔司先生将请求的眼光转向补锅匠，偏偏他又突如其来地睡着了。女士们更不在话下。

    “如果布里特尔斯非得当着证人的面把门打开的话，”凯尔司先生沉默了一会说道，“我愿意作证。”

    “我也算一个。”补锅匠突然醒了，他刚才也是这样突然睡着了。

    基于上述条件，布里特尔斯屈服了。大家发现（掀开窗板得到的发现），天已经大亮，多少放心了一些，他们让狗跑在前边，自己拾级而上。两位害怕呆在下边的女士也跟在后边上去了。依照凯尔司先生的提议，大家高声交谈，以此警告门外无论哪一个居心不良的家伙，他们在人数上占有优势，又根据同一位很有发明天才的绅士想出的一条独出心裁的妙计，在门厅里使劲扯那两只狗的尾巴，让它们没命地叫。

    采取了这几项防范措施之后，凯尔司先生紧紧抓住补锅匠的手腕（他得意洋洋地说，免得他溜掉），下达了开门的命令。布里特尔斯照办了。这一群人提心吊胆，隔着别人的肩膀往外瞅，没有发现什么可怕的东西，只见可怜的小奥立弗退斯特虚弱得说不出话，吃力地抬起眼睛，无声地乞求他们怜悯。

    “一个孩子！”凯尔司先生大叫一声，勇不可当地把补锅匠掀到身后。“怎么回事――呢？――怪了――布里特尔斯――瞧这儿――你还没明白吗？”

    一开门就钻到门后边去了的布里特尔斯猛然看见奥立弗，不禁发出一声大叫，凯尔司先生抓住这孩子的一条腿和一只胳臂（幸好不是受伤的一只），把他拖进门厅，直挺挺地撂在地板上。

    “就是他。”凯尔司先生神气活现地向楼上大喊大叫。“太太，逮住一个小偷，太太。这里有个贼，小姐。受了伤了，小姐。我打中他了，小姐，是布里特尔斯替我掌的灯。”

    “用的是一盏提灯，小姐。”布里特尔斯嚷着说，他把手按在嘴边，以便让他的声音传得更清楚一些。

    两个女仆带着凯尔司先生捕获了一个窃贼的消息向楼上奔去，补锅匠为抢救奥立弗忙得不亦乐乎，免得还没来得及把他挂上绞刑架，倒先完事了。在这一片嘈杂纷乱之中，响起了一个女子甜美的嗓音，刹那间，一切都平静下来。

    “凯尔司！”那嗓音在楼梯口轻声叫道。

    “在，小姐，”凯尔司先生口答，“别怕，小姐，我没怎么受伤。他也没有拼命挣扎，小姐。我三下五除二就把他制住了。”

    “嘘！”少女回答，“那伙小偷把姑妈吓坏了，现在你也要吓着她了。这可怜的家伙伤很重吧？”

    “伤得厉害，小姐。”凯尔司带着难以形容的得意答道。

    “他看上去快不行了，小姐，”布里特尔斯高声喊道，那副神气跟刚才一模一样。“小姐，您不想来看他一眼？万一他果真不行了可就来不及了。”

    “别嚷嚷好不好，这才像个男子汉。”少女回答，“安安静静地等一下，我跟姑妈说说去。”

    随着一阵和声音一样轻柔的脚步声，说话人走开了。她很快又回来了，吩咐把那个受了伤的人抬到楼上凯尔司先生的房间去，要细心一点。布里特尔斯去替那匹小马备鞍，立即动身赶往杰茨，以最快速度从那儿请一位警官和一位大夫来。

    “不过您要不要先看看他，小姐。”凯尔司先生非常自豪地问，仿佛奥立弗是某种羽毛珍奇的鸟儿，由他身手不凡地打下来的一样。“要不要看一眼，小姐？”

    “要看也不是现在，”少女答道，“可怜的家伙。噢。对他好一点，凯尔司，看在我的分上。”

    说话人转身走了，老管家抬眼凝视着她，那眼色又是骄傲又是赞赏，就好像她是自己的孩子一样。接着他朝奥立弗躬下身子，带着女性般的细致与热心帮着把他抬上楼去。