oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第86节

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afore　me；　upon　my　soul　I　do；　Fagin。　What　a　game！　What　a　regular　
game！　All　the　bigwigs　trying　to　look　solemn；　and　Jack　Dawkins　
addressing　of　’em　as　intimate　and　comfortable　as　if　he　was　the　
judge’s　own　son　making　a　speech　arter　dinner—ha！　ha！　ha！”　

In　fact；　Mr。　Fagin　had　so　well　humoured　his　young　friend’s　
eccentric　disposition；　that　Master　Bates；　who　bad　at　first　been　
disposed　to　consider　the　imprisoned　Dodger　rather　in　the　light　of　a　
victim；　now　looked　upon　him　as　the　chief　actor　in　a　scene　of　most　
uncommon　and　exquisite　humour；　and　felt　quite　impatient　for　the　
arrival　of　the　time　when　his　old　companion　should　have　so　
favourable　an　opportunity　of　displaying　his　abilities。　

“We　must　know　how　he　gets　on　today；　by　some　handy　means　or　
other；”　said　Fagin。　“Let　me　think。”　

“Shall　I　go？”　asked　Charley。　

“Not　for　the　world；”　replied　Fagin。　“Are　you　mad；　my　dear—　
stark　mad；　that　you’d　walk　into　the　very　place　where—No；　
Charley；　no。　One　is　enough　to　lose　at　a　time。”　

“You　don’t　mean　to　go　yourself；　I　suppose？”　said　Charley；　with　
a　humorous　leer。　

“That　wouldn’t　quite　fit；”　replied　Fagin；　shaking　his　head。　

“Then　why　don’t　you　send　this　new　cove？”　asked　Master　Bates；　
laying　his　hand　on　Noah’s　arm。　“Nobody　knows　him。”　

“Why；　if　he　didn’t　mind—”　observed　Fagin。　

“Mind！”　interposed　Charley。　“What　should　he　have　to　mind？”　

“Really　nothing；　my　dear；”　said　Fagin；　turning　to　Mr。　Bolter；　
“really　nothing。”　

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“Oh；　I　dare　say　about　that；　yer　know；”　observed　Noah；　backing　
towards　the　door；　and　shaking　his　head　with　a　kind　of　sober　alarm。　
“No；　no—none　of　that。　It’s　not　in　my　department；　that　ain’t。”　

“Wot　department　has　he　got；　Fagin？”　inquired　Master　Bates；　
surveying　Noah’s　lank　form　with　much　disgust。　“The　cutting　away　
when　there’s　anything　wrong；　and　the　eating　all　the　wittles　when　
there’s　everything　right；　is　that　his　branch？”　

“Never　mind；”　retorted　Mr。　Bolter；　“and　don’t　yer　take　liberties　
with　yer　superiors；　little　boy；　or　yer’ll　find　yerself　in　the　wrong　
shop。”　

Master　Bates　laughed　so　vehemently　at　this　magnificent　threat　
that　it　was　some　time　before　Fagin　could　interpose；　and　represent　
to　Mr。　Bolter　that　he　incurred　no　possible　danger　in　visiting　the　
police　office；　that；　inasmuch　as　no　account　of　the　little　affair　in　
which　he　had　been　engaged；　nor　any　description　of　his　person；　had　
yet　been　forwarded　to　the　metropolis；　it　was　very　probable　that　he　
was　not　even　suspected　of　having　resorted　to　it　for　shelter；　and　
that；　if　he　was　properly　disguised；　it　would　be　as　safe　a　spot　for　
him　to　visit　as　any　in　London；　inasmuch　as　it　would　be；　of　all　
places；　the　very　last；　to　which　he　could　be　supposed　likely　to　resort　
of　his　own　free…will。　

Persuaded；　in　part；　by　these　representations；　but　overborne　in　a　
much　greater　degree　by　his　fear　of　Fagin；　Mr。　Bolter　at　length　
consented；　with　a　very　bad　grace；　to　undertake　the　expedition。　By　
Fagin’s　directions；　he　immediately　substituted　for　his　own　attire；　a　
waggoner’s　frock；　velveteen　breeches；　and　leather　leggings；　all　of　
which　articles　the　Jew　had　at　hand。　He　was　likewise　furnished　
with　a　felt　hat　well　garnished　with　turnpike　tickets；　and　a　carter’s　
whip。　Thus　equipped；　he　was　to　saunter　into　the　office；　as　some　

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country　fellow　from　Covent　Garden　market　might　be　supposed　to　
do　for　the　gratification　of　his　curiosity；　and　as　he　was　as　awkward；　
ungainly；　and　raw…boned　a　fellow　as　need　be；　Mr。　Fagin　had　no　
fear　but　that　he　would　look　the　part　to　perfection。　

These　arrangements　completed；　he　was　informed　of　the　
necessary　signs　and　tokens　by　which　to　recognise　the　Artful　
Dodger；　and　was　conveyed　by　Master　Bates　through　dark　and　
winding　ways　to　within　a　very　short　distance　of　Bow　Street。　
Having　described　the　precise　situation　of　the　office；　and　
accompanied　it　with　copious　directions　how　he　was　to　walk　
straight　up　the　passage；　and　when　he　got　into　the　yard　take　the　
door　up　the　steps　on　the　right…hand　side；　and　pull　off　his　hat　as　he　
went　into　the　room；　Charley　Bates　bade　him　hurry　on　alone；　and　
promised　to　bide　his　return　on　the　spot　of　their　parting。　

Noah　Claypole；　or　Morris　Bolter　as　the　reader　pleases；　
punctually　followed　the　directions　he　had　received；　which—　
Master　Bates　being　pretty　well　acquainted　with　the　locality—were　
so　exact　that　he　was　enabled　to　gain　the　magisterial　presence　
without　asking　any　questions；　or　meeting　with　any　interruption　by　
the　way。　He　found　himself　jostled　among　a　crowd　of　people；　chiefly　
women；　who　were　huddled　together　in　a　dirty；　frowsy　room；　at　the　
upper　end　of　which　was　a　raised　platform　railed　off　from　the　rest；　
with　a　dock　for　the　prisoners　on　the　left　hand　against　the　wall；　a　
box　for　the　witnesses　in　the　middle；　and　a　desk　for　the　magistrates　
on　the　right；　the　awful　locality　last　named；　being　screened　off　by　a　
partition　which　concealed　the　Bench　from　the　common　gaze；　and　
left　the　vulgar　to　imagine　（if　they　could）　the　full　majesty　of　Justice。　

There　were　only　a　couple　of　women　in　the　dock；　who　were　
nodding　to　their　admiring　friends；　while　the　clerk　read　some　

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depositions　to　a　couple　of　policemen　and　a　man　in　plain　clothes　
who　leant　over　the　table。　A　jailer　stood　reclining　against　the　dock　
rail；　tapping　his　nose　listlessly　with　a　large　key；　except　when　he　
repressed　an　undue　tendency　to　conversation　among　the　idlers；　by　
proclaiming　silence；　or　looked　sternly　up　to　bid　some　woman　
“Take　that　baby　out；”　when　the　gravity　of　justice　was　disturbed　by　
feeble　cries；　half…smothered　in　the　mother’s　shawl；　from　some　
meagre　infant。　The　room　smelled　close　and　unwholesome；　the　
walls　were　dirt…coloured；　and　the　ceiling　blackened。　There　was　an　
old　smoky　bust　over　the　mantel…shelf；　and　a　dusty　clock　above　the　
dock—the　only　thing　present；　that　seemed　to　go　on　as　it　ought；　for　
depravity；　or　poverty；　or　an　habitual　acquaintance　with　both；　had　
left　a　taint　on　all　the　animate　matter；　hardly　less　unpleasant　than　
the　thick　greasy　scum　on　every　inanimate　object　that　frowned　
upon　it。　

Noah　looked　eagerly　about　him　for　the　Dodger；　but　although　
there　were　several　women　who　would　have　done　very　well　for　that　
distinguished　character’s　mother　or　sister；　and　more　than　one　man　
who　might　be　supposed　to　bear　a　strong　resemblance　to　his　father；　
nobody　at　all　answering　the　description　given　him　of　Mr。　Dawkins　
was　to　be　seen。　He　waited　in　a　state　of　much　suspense　and　
uncertainty　until　the　women；　being　committed　for　trial；　went　
flaunting　out；　and　then　was　quickly　relieved　by　the　appearance　of　
another　prisoner　who　he　felt　at　once　could　be　no　other　than　the　
object　of　his　visit。　

It　was　indeed　Mr。　Dawkins；　who；　shuffling　into　the　office　with　
the　big　coat　tucked　up　as　usual；　his　left　hand　in　his　pocket；　and　his　
hat　in　his　right　hand；　preceded　the　jailer；　with　a　rolling　gait　
altogether　indescribable；　and；　taking　his　place　in　the　dock；　

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requested　in　an　audible　voice　to　know　what　he　was　placed　in　that　

’ere　disgraceful　sitivation　for。　

“Hold　your　tongue；　will　you？”　said　the　jailer。　

“I’m　an　Englishman；　ain’t　I？”　rejoined　the　Dodger。　“Where　are　
my　priwileges？”　

“You’ll　get　your　privileges　soon　enough；”　retorted　the　jailer；　
“and　pepper　with　’em。”　

“We’ll　see　wot　the　Secretary　of　State　for　the　Home　Affairs　has　
got　to　say　to　the　beaks；　if　I　don’t；”　replied　Mr。　Dawkins。　“Now　
then！　Wot　is　this　here　business？　I　shall　thank　the　madg’strates　to　
dispose　of　this　here　little　affair；　and　not　to　keep　me　while　they　read　
the　paper；　for　I’ve　got　an　appointment　with　a　gentleman　in　the　
city；　and　as　I’m　a　man　of　my　word　and　wery　punctual　in　business　
matters；　he’ll　go　away　if　I　ain’t　there　to　my　time；　and　then　p’r’aps　
there　won’t　be　an　action　for　damage　against　them　as　kept　me　
away。　Oh；　no；　certainly　not！”　

At　this　point；　the　Dodger；　with　a　show　of　being　very　particular　
with　a　view　to　proceedings　to　be　had　thereafter；　desired　the　jailer　
to　communicate　“the　names　of　them　two　files　as　was　on　the　
bench；”　which　so　tickled　the　spectators；　that　they　laughed　almost　
as　heartily　as　Master　Bates　could　have　done　if　he　had　heard　the　
request。　

“Silence；　there！”　cried　the　jailer。　

“What　is　this？”　inquired　one　of　the　magistrates。　

“A　pick…pocketing　case；　your　Worship。”　

“Has　the　boy　ever　been　here　before？”　

“He　ought　to　have　been；　a　many　times；”　replied　the　jailer。　“He　
has　been　pretty　well　everywhere　else。　I　know　him　well；　your　
Worship。”　

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“Oh！　you　know　me；　do　you？”　cried　the　Artful；　making　a　note　of　
the　statement。　“Wery　good。　That’s　a　case　of　deformation　of　
character；　anyway。”　Here　there　was　another　laugh；　and　another　
cry　of　silence。　

“Now　then；　where　are　the　witnesses？”　said　the　clerk。　

“Ah！　that’s　right；”　added　the　Dodg