Stories from Dickens Read online

  *IV. THE END OF EVIL DAYS*

  Now, unbeknown to Nancy, Fagin the Jew had become suspicious of her, andhad set a spy upon her heels. This spy was none other than NoahClaypole, the undertaker's apprentice, whom Oliver had so soundlythrashed. Noah had lately come to London to try his fortune in anyunderhand way that might arise. The Jew was always on the lookout forjust such fellows as he. So they soon struck a bargain.

  On the night when Nancy set forth to keep her appointment on the Bridge,Noah was kept busy darting from pillar to post, but all the time keepingher in sight. When she met Rose and Mr. Brownlow, the spy quickly slunkbehind an abutment where he could hear every word of what she said. Andyou may be sure he lost no time in taking his story back to the Jew.

  Bill Sikes had just returned, in the early morning, from ahouse-breaking jaunt, and was as usual in an ugly mood. A word from theJew about Nancy's defection set his brain on fire with hatred againstthe girl. He hastened to her room, and, disregarding all her appealsfor mercy, struck her lifeless to the floor.

  This murder proved the beginning of the end for all the gang. Mr.Brownlow had already set the police to work, and now offered a largepersonal reward for Sikes's arrest. The murderer was tracked in andabout the city for several days, until he finally hung himself inendeavoring to escape from the roof of a house.

  Fagin the Jew was captured at last, and for his share in this crime, andhis other wickednesses was condemned to death. A great popular clamorhad been aroused against him, and he was to be hung without delay.

  In the hope that the Jew would throw some light upon Monks and somesecret papers which Mr. Brownlow had traced, that gentleman took Oliverwith him to the prison to see Fagin on his last night upon earth.

  "Is the young gentleman to come, too, sir?" said the man whose duty itwas to conduct them. "It's not a sight for children, sir."

  "It is not indeed, my friend,", rejoined Mr. Brownlow; "but my businesswith this man is intimately connected with him; and as this child hasseen him in the full career of his success and villany, I think itwell--even at the cost of some pain and fear--that he should see himnow."

  These few words had been said apart, so as to be inaudible to Oliver.The man touched his hat; and glancing at Oliver with some curiosity,opened another gate, opposite to that by which they had entered, and ledthem on, through dark and winding ways, to the cell.

  The condemned criminal was seated on his bed, rocking himself from sideto side, with a countenance more like that of a snared beast than theface of a man. His mind was evidently wandering to his old life, for hecontinued to mutter, without appearing conscious of their presenceotherwise than as a part of his vision.

  "Good boy, Charley--well done!"--he mumbled. "Oliver too, ha! ha! ha!Oliver too--quite the gentleman now--quite the--take that boy away tobed!"

  The jailer took the disengaged hand of Oliver, and, whispering to himnot to be alarmed, looked on without speaking.

  "Take him away to bed!" cried the Jew. "Do you hear me, some of you? Hehas been the--the--somehow the cause of all this!"

  "Fagin," said the jailer.

  "That's me!" cried the Jew, falling, instantly, into the attitude oflistening he had assumed upon his trial. "An old man, my Lord; a veryold, old man!"

  "Here," said the turnkey, laying his hand upon his breast to keep himdown. "Here's somebody wants to see you, to ask you some questions, Isuppose. Fagin, Fagin! Are you a man?"

  "I sha'n't be one long," replied the Jew, looking up with a faceretaining no human expression but rage and terror. "Strike them alldead! What right have they to butcher me?"

  As he spoke he caught sight of Oliver and Mr. Brownlow. Shrinking tothe farthest corner of the seat, he demanded to know what they wantedthere.

  "Steady," said the turnkey, still holding him down. "Now, sir, tell himwhat you want--quick if you please, for he grows worse as the time getson."

  "You have some papers," said Mr. Brownlow, advancing, "which were placedin your hands, for better security, by a man called Monks."

  "It's all a lie together," replied the Jew. "I haven't one--not one."

  "For the love of God," said Mr. Brownlow, solemnly, "do not tell a lienow, upon the very verge of death; but tell me where they are. You knowthat Sikes is dead; and that there is no hope of any farther gain.Where are those papers?"

  "Oliver," cried the Jew, beckoning to him. "Here, here! Let me whisperto you."

  "I am not afraid," said Oliver, in a firm voice, as he relinquished Mr.Brownlow's hand.

  "The papers," said the Jew, drawing him towards him, "are in a canvasbag, in a hole a little way up the chimney in the top front room. I wantto talk to you, my dear. I want to talk to you."

  "Yes, yes," returned Oliver. "Let me say a prayer. Do! Let me say oneprayer. Say only one, upon your knees, with me, and we will talk tillmorning."

  "Outside, outside," replied the Jew, pushing the boy before him towardsthe door, and looking vacantly over his head. "Say I've gone tosleep--they'll believe _you_. You can get me out, if you take me so.Now then, now then!"

  "Oh! God forgive this wretched man!" cried the boy, with a burst oftears.

  "That's right, that's right," said the Jew. "That'll help us on. Thisdoor first. If I shake and tremble, as we pass the gallows, don't youmind, but hurry on. Now, now, now!"

  "Have you nothing else to ask him, sir?" inquired the turnkey.

  "No other question," replied Mr. Brownlow. "If I hoped we could recallhim to a sense of his position--"

  "Nothing will do that, sir," replied the man, shaking his head. "Youhad better leave him."

  The door of the cell opened and the attendants returned.

  "Press on, press on," cried the Jew. "Softly, but not so slow. Faster,faster!"

  The men laid hands upon him, and disengaging Oliver from his grasp, heldhim back. He struggled with the power of desperation for an instant,and then sent up cry upon cry that penetrated even those massive wallsand rang in their ears until they reached the open yard.

  And this--thought Oliver shudderingly--was the last of the Jew--the manfrom whose clutches he had so narrowly escaped!

  Noah Claypole turned state's evidence at this time, and thus escaped thelaw. Dawkins, the Artful Dodger, had been caught picking pockets andwas transported from the country. Charley Bates was so unnerved by thefate of Nancy, and the swift punishment of his companions, that hereformed and became an honest, hard-working young man.

  And, finally, what of Monks? He was shadowed and seized by Mr.Brownlow's agents, and proved to be none other than the half-brother ofOliver Twist! Their father was dead, but he had left a will providingfor the boy also. And it was on this account that Monks had wished toget him out of the way and had employed Fagin in trying to ruin the lad.

  The papers were found, as the Jew had indicated, and they not onlycleared up Oliver's past history, but proved his right to a share in aconsiderable family estate. Mr. Brownlow had known Monks's father intheir early days, and now used this knowledge to wring a full confessionfrom the villain.

  Another strange secret came to light also, at this time. Rose Mayliewas found to be a younger sister of Oliver's dead mother, and thereforethe boy's own aunt.

  "Not aunt!" cried Oliver, when he heard this amazing but delightfulnews; "I'll never call her aunt! Sister, my own dear sister, thatsomething taught my heart to love so dearly from the first! Rose, deardarling Rose!"

  And the two orphans, no longer alone but united and surrounded by lovingfriends, were clasped in each other's arms.

  *THE STORY OF SMIKE AND HIS TEACHER*