'He may have worse, I say,' repeated Mr. Grimwig. 'Where does hecome from! Who is he? What is he? He has had a fever. What ofthat? Fevers are not peculiar to good peope; are they? Badpeople have fevers sometimes; haven't they, eh? I knew a man whowas hung in Jamaica for murdering his master. He had had a feversix times; he wasn't recommended to mercy on that account. Pooh!nonsense!'。， up go the windows, out run the people, onward bear the mob, awhole audience desert Punch in the very thickest of the plot,and, joining the rushing throng, swell the shout, and lend freshvigour to the cry, 'Stop thief! Stop thief!'
Master Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in thisreply, that he burst into another laugh; which laugh, meeting thecoffee he was drinking, and carrying it down some wrong channel,very nearly terminated in his premature suffocation.。，
The Jew's countenance fell. He turned from this young lady, whowas gaily, not to say gorgeously attired, in a red gown, greenboots, and yellow curl-papers, to the other female.。， 'Are you the party that's been robbed, sir?' inquired the manwith the keys.
The office was a front parlour, with a panelled wall. Mr. Fangsat behind a bar, at the upper end; and on one side the door wasa sort of wooden pen in which poor little Oliver was alreadydeposited; trembling very much at the awfulness of the scene.。， 'Is there a little boy here?' inquired Nancy, with a preliminarysob.
The prudence of this line of action, indeed, was obvious; but,unfortunately, there was one very strong objection to its beingadopted. This was, that the Dodger, and Charley Bates, andFagin, and Mr. William Sikes, happened, one and all, to entertaina violent and deeply-rooted antipathy to going near apolice-office on any ground or pretext whatever.。， Oliver's sobs checked his utterance for some minutes; when he wason the point of beginning to relate how he had been brought up atthe farm, and carried to the workhouse by Mr. Bumble, apeculiarly impatient little double-knock was heard at thestreet-door: and the servant, running upstairs, announced Mr.Grimwig.
The dog no doubt heard; because Mr. Sikes spoke in the veryharshest key of a very harsh voice; but, appearing to entertainsome unaccountable objection to having his throat cut, heremained where he was, and growled more fiercely than before: atthe same time grasping the end of the poker between his teeth,and biting at it like a wild beast.。，
。， This was a vagrant of sixty-five, who was going to prison for NOTplaying the flute; or, in other words, for begging in thestreets, and doing nothing for his livelihood. In the next cellwas another man, who was going to the same prison for hawking tinsaucepans without license; thereby doing something for hisliving, in defiance of the Stamp-office.
The mandate was obeyed; and the indignant Mr. Brownlow wasconveyed out, with the book in one hand, and the bamboo cane inthe other: in a perfect phrenzy of rage and defiance. Hereached the yard; and his passion vanished in a moment. LittleOliver Twist lay on his back on the pavement, with his shirtunbuttoned, and his temples bathed with water; his face a deadlywhite; and a cold tremble convulsing his whole frame.。， 'Nancy!' exclaimed Sikes. 'Where? Strike me blind, if I don'thonour that 'ere girl, for her native talents.'
。， It is worthy of remark, as illustrating the importance we attachto our own judgments, and the pride with which we put forth ourmost rash and hasty conclusions, that, although Mr. Grimwig wasnot by any means a bad-hearted man, and though he would have beenunfeignedly sorry to see his respected friend duped and deceived,he really did most earnestly and strongly hope at that moment,that Oliver Twist might not come back.