oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第77章

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He　had　not　moved；　he　had　been　afraid　to　stir。　There　had　been　a　
moan　and　motion　of　the　hand；　and；　with　terror　added　to　rage；　he　
had　struck　and　struck　again。　Once　he　threw　a　rug　over　it；　but　it　
was　worse　to　fancy　the　eyes；　and　imagine　them　moving　towards　
him；　than　to　see　them　glaring　upward；　as　if　watching　the　reflection　
of　the　pool　of　gore　that　quivered　and　danced　in　the　sunlight　on　the　
ceiling。　He　had　plucked　it　off　again。　And　there　was　the　body—　
mere　flesh　and　blood；　no　more—but　such　flesh；　and　so　much　
blood！　

He　struck　a　light；　kindled　a　fire；　and　thrust　the　club　into　it。　
There　was　hair　upon　the　edge；　which　blazed　and　shrank　into　a　

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light　cinder；　and；　caught　by　the　air；　whirled　up　the　chimney。　Even　
that　frightened　him；　sturdy　as　he　was；　but　he　held　the　weapon　till　
it　broke；　and　then　piled　it　on　the　coals　to　burn　away；　and　smoulder　
into　ashes。　He　washed　himself；　and　rubbed　his　clothes；　there　were　
spots　that　would　not　be　removed；　but　he　cut　the　pieces　out；　and　
burned　them。　How　those　stains　were　dispersed　about　the　room！　
The　very　feet　of　the　dog　were　bloody。　

All　this　time　he　had；　never　once；　turned　his　back　upon　the　
corpse；　no；　not　for　a　moment。　Such　preparations　completed；　he　
moved；　backward；　towards　the　door；　dragging　the　dog　with　him；　
lest　he　should　soil　his　feet　anew　and　carry　out　new　evidences　of　
the　crime　into　the　streets。　He　shut　the　door　softly；　locked　it；　took　
the　key；　and　left　the　house。　

He　crossed　over；　and　glanced　up　at　the　window；　to　be　sure　that　
nothing　was　visible　from　the　outside。　There　was　the　curtain　still　
drawn；　which　she　would　have　opened　to　admit　the　light　she　never　
saw　again。　It　lay　nearly　under　there。　He　knew　that。　God；　how　the　
sun　poured　down　upon　the　very　spot！　

The　glance　was　instantaneous。　It　was　a　relief　to　have　got　free　of　
the　room。　He　whistled　on　the　dog　and　walked　rapidly　away。　

He　went　through　Islington；　strode　up　the　hill　at　Highgate　on　
which　stands　the　stone　in　honour　of　Whittington；　turned　down　to　
Highgate　Hill；　unsteady　of　purpose；　and　uncertain　where　to　go；　
struck　off　to　the　right　again；　almost　as　soon　as　he　began　to　descend　
it；　and　taking　the　footpath　across　the　fields；　skirted　Caen　Wood；　
and　so　came　out　on　Hampstead　Heath。　Traversing　the　hollow　by　
the　Vale　of　Health；　he　mounted　the　opposite　bank；　and　crossing　
the　road　which　joins　the　villages　of　Hampstead　and　Highgate；　
made　along　the　remaining　portion　of　the　heath　to　the　fields　at　

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North　End；　in　one　of　which　he　laid　himself　down　under　a　hedge；　
and　slept。　

Soon　he　was　up　again；　and　away—not　far　into　the　country；　but　
backwards　towards　London　by　the　highroad—then　back　again—　
then　over　another　part　of　the　same　ground　as　he　already　
traversed—then　wandering　up　and　down　in　fields；　and　lying　on　
ditches’　brinks　to　rest；　and　starting　up　to　make　for　some　other　
spot；　and　do　the　same；　and　ramble　on　again。　

Where　could　he　go；　that　was　near　and　not　too　public；　to　get　
some　meat　and　drink？　Hendon。　That　was　a　good　place；　not　far　off；　
and　out　of　most　people’s　way。　Thither　he　directed　his　steps—　
running　sometimes；　and　sometimes；　with　a　strange　perversity；　
loitering　at　a　snail’s　pace；　or　stopping　altogether　and　idly　breaking　
the　hedges　with　his　stick。　But　when　he　got　there；　all　the　people　he　
met—the　very　children　at　the　doors—seemed　to　view　him　with　
suspicion。　Back　he　turned　again；　without　the　courage　to　purchase　
bit　or　drop；　though　he　had　tasted　no　food　for　many　hours；　and　
once　more　he　lingered　on　the　heath　uncertain　where　to　go。　

He　wandered　over　miles　and　miles　of　ground；　and　still　came　
back　to　the　old　place。　Morning　and　noon　had　passed；　and　the　day　
was　on　the　wane；　and　still　he　rambled　to　and　fro；　and　up　and　
down；　and　round　and　round；　and　still　lingered　about　the　same　
spot。　At　last　he　got　away；　and　shaped　his　course　for　Hatfield。　

It　was　nine　o’clock　at　night；　when　the　man；　quite　tired　out；　and　
the　dog；　limping　and　lame　from　the　unaccustomed　exercise；　
turned　down　the　hill　by　the　church　of　the　quiet　village；　and　
plodding　along　the　little　street；　crept　into　a　small　public…house；　
whose　scanty　light　had　guided　them　to　the　spot。　There　was　a　fire　
in　the　taproom；　and　some　country　labourers　were　drinking　before　

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it。　They　made　room　for　the　stranger；　but　he　sat　down　in　the　
farthest　corner；　and　ate　and　drank　alone；　or　rather　with　his　dog；　to　
whom　he　cast　a　morsel　of　food　from　time　to　time。　

The　conversation　of　the　men　assembled　here；　turned　upon　the　
neighbouring　land；　and　farmers；　and　when　those　topics　were　
exhausted；　upon　the　age　of　some　old　man　who　had　been　buried　on　
the　previous　Sunday；　the　young　men　present　considering　him　very　
old；　and　the　old　men　present　declaring　him　to　have　been　quite　
young—not　older；　one　white…haired　grandfather　said；　than　he　
was—with　ten　or　fifteen　year　of　life　in　him　at　least　if　he　had　taken　
care；　if　he　had　taken　care。　

There　was　nothing　to　attract　attention；　or　excite　alarm　in　this。　
The　robber；　after　paying　his　reckoning；　sat　silent　and　unnoticed　in　
the　corner；　and　had　almost　dropped　asleep；　when　he　was　half…
awakened　by　the　noisy　entrance　of　a　newcomer。　

This　was　an　antic　fellow；　half…pedlar　and　half…mountebank；　who　
travelled　about　the　country　on　foot　to　vend　hones；　strops；　razors；　
wash…balls；　harness…paste；　medicine　for　dogs—and　horses；　cheap　
perfumery；　cosmetics；　and　such　like　wares；　which　he　carried　in　a　
case　slung　to　his　back。　His　entrance　was　the　signal　for　various　
homely　jokes　with　the　countrymen；　which　slackened　not　until　he　
had　made　his　supper；　and　opened　his　box　of　treasures；　when　he　
ingeniously　contrived　to　unite　business　with　amusement。　

“And　what　be　that　stoof？　Good　to　eat；　Harry？”　asked　a　grinning　
countryman；　pointing　to　some　composition…cakes　in　one　corner。　

“This；”　said　the　fellow；　producing　one—“this　is　the　infallible　
and　invaluable　composition　for　removing　all　sorts　of　stain；　rust；　
dirt；　mildew；　spick；　speck；　spot；　or　spatter；　from　silk；　satin；　linen；　
cambric；　cloth；　crape；　stuff；　carpet；　merino；　muslin；　bombazeen；　or　

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woollen　stuff。　Wine…stains；　fruit…stains；　beer…stains；　water…stains；　
paint…stains；　pitch…stains；　any　stains；　all　come　out　at　one　rub　with　
the　infallible　and　invaluable　composition。　If　a　lady　stains　her　
honour；　she　has　only　need　to　swallow　one　cake　and　she’s　cured　at　
once—for　it’s　poison。　If　a　gentleman　wants　to　prove　this；　he　has　
only　need　to　bolt　one　little　square；　and　he　has　put　it　beyond　
question—for　it’s　quite　as　satisfactory　as　a　pistol…bullet；　and　a　
great　deal　nastier　in　the　flavour；　consequently　the　more　credit　in　
taking　it。　One　penny　a　square。　With　all　these　virtues；　one　penny　a　
square！”　

There　were　two　buyers　directly；　and　more　of　the　listeners　
plainly　hesitated。　The　vendor　observing　this；　increased　in　
loquacity。　

“It’s　all　bought　up　as　fast　as　it　can　be　made；”　said　the　fellow。　
“There　are　fourteen　water…mills；　six　steam…engines；　and　a　galvanic　
battery；　always　a…working　upon　it；　and　they　can’t　make　it　fast　
enough；　though　the　men　work　so　hard　that　they　die　off；　and　the　
widows　is　pensioned　directly；　with　twenty　pound　a　year　for　each　of　
the　children；　and　a　premium　of　fifty　for　twins。　One　penny　a　
square！　Two　halfpence　is　all　the　same；　and　four　farthings　is　
received　with　joy。　One　penny　a　square！　Wine…stains；　fruit…stains；　
beer…stains；　water…stains；　paint…stains；　pitch…stains；　mud…stains；　
blood…stains！　Here　is　a　stain　upon　the　hat　of　a　gentleman　in　
company；　that　I’ll　take　clean　out；　before　he　can　order　me　a　pint　of　
ale。”　

“Ah！”　cried　Sikes；　starting　up。　“Give　that　back。”　

“I’ll　take　it　clean　out；　sir；”　replied　the　man；　winking　to　the　
company；　“before　you　can　come　across　the　room　to　get　it。　
Gentlemen　all；　observe　the　dark　stain　upon　this　gentleman’s　hat；　

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no　wider　than　a　shilling；　but　thicker　than　a　half…crown。　Whether　it　
is　a　wine…stain；　fruit…stain；　beer…stain；　water…stain；　paint…stain；　
pitch…stain；　mud…stain；　or　blood…stain。”　

The　man　got　no　further；　for　Sikes　with　a　hideous　imprecation　
overthrew　the　table；　and　tearing　the　hat　from　him；　burst　out　of　the　
house。　

With　the　same　perversity　of　feeling　and　irresolution　that　has　
fastened　upon　him；　despite　himself；　all　day；　the　murderer；　finding　
that　he　was　not　followed；　and　that　they　most　probably　considered　
him　some　drunken；　sullen　fellow；　turned　back　up　the　town；　and　
getting　out　of　the　glare　of　the　lamps　of　a　stagecoach　that　was　
standing　in　the　street；　was　walking　past；　when　he　recognised　the　
mail　from　London；　and　saw　that　it　was　standing　at　the　little　post…
office。　He　almost　knew　what　was　to　come；　but　he　crossed　over；　and　
listened。　

The　guard　was　standing　at　the　door；　waiting　for　the　letter…bag。　
A　man；　dressed　like　a　gamekeeper；　came　up　at　the　moment；　and　
he　handed　him　a　basket　which　lay　ready　on　the　pavement。　

“That’s　for　your　people；”　said　the　guard。　“Now；　look　alive　in　
there；　will　you。　Damn　that　’ere　bag；　it　warn’t　ready　night　afore　last；　
this　won’t　do；　you　know！”　

“Anything　new　up　in　town；　Ben？”　asked　the　gamekeeper；　
drawing　back　to　the　window…shutters；　the　better　to　admire　the　
horses。　

“No；　nothing　that　I　knows　on；”　replied　the　man；　pulling　on　his　
gloves。　“Corn’s　up　a　little。　I　heerd　talk　of　a　murder；　too；　down　
Spitalfields　way；　but　I　don’t　reckon　much　upon　it。”　

“Oh；　that’s　quite　true；”　said　a　gentleman　inside；　who　was　
looking　out　of　the　window。　“And　a　dreadful　murder　it　was。”　

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“Was　it；　sir？”　rejoined　the　guard；　touching　his　hat。　“Man　or　
woman；　pray；　sir？”　

“A　woman；”　replied　the　gentleman。　“It　is　supposed—”　

“Now；　Ben；”　replied　the　coachman　impatiently。　

“Damn　that　’ere　bag；”　said　the　guard；　“are　you　gone　to　sleep　in　
there？”　

“Coming！”　cried　the　office　keeper；　running　out。　

“Coming；”　growled　the　guard。　“Ah；　and　so’s　the　young　‘ooman　
of　property　that’s　going　to　take　a　fancy　to　me；　but　I　don’t　know　
when。　Here；　give　hold。　All　ri…right！”　

The　horn　sounded　a　few　cheerful　notes；　and　the　coach　was　
gone。　

Sikes　remained　standing　in　the　street；　apparently　unmoved　by　
what　he　had　just　heard；　and　agitated　by　no　stronger　feeling　than　a　
doubt　where　to　go。　At　length　he　went　back　again；　and　took　the　
road　which　leads　from　Hatfield　to　St。　Albans。　

He　went　on　doggedly；　but　as　he　left　the　town　behind　him；　and　
plunged　into　the　solitude　and　darkness　of　the　road；　he　felt　a　dread　
and　awe　creeping　upon　him　which　shook　him　to　the　core。　Every　
object　before　him；　substance　or　shadow；　still　or　moving；　took　the　
semblance　of　some　fearful　thing；　but　these　fears　were　nothing　
compared　to　the　sense　that　haunted　him　of　that　morning’s　ghastly　
figure　following　at　his　heels。　He　could　trace　its　shadow　in　the　
gloom；　supply　the　smallest　item　of　the　outline；　and　no