"Stop thief! Stop thief!" There is a magic in the sound. The tradesman leaves his counter, and the carman his wagon; the butcher throws down his tray; the baker his basket; the milkman his pail; the errand-boy his parcels; the school-boy his marbles. Away they run, pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash, tearing, yelling, screaming and knocking down the passengers as they turn the corners.
"Stop thief! Stop thief!" The cry is taken up by a hundred voices, and the crowd accumulates at every turning. Away they fly, splashing through the mud and rattling along the pavements. Up go the windows, out run the people, and lend fresh vigor to the cry, "Stop thief! Stop thief!"
Stopped at last! A well-aimed blow laid Oliver upon the pavement. Then a policeman seized him by the collar and he was hustled off for trial before a magistrate.
The magistrate was a surly boor who was in the habit of committing prisoners to jail with the merest pretence of a trial. It did not take him long to decide that Oliver was a hardened criminal, in spite of the protests of the kindly old gentleman whose pocket had been picked; and the boy was, in fact, being carried away in a fainting condition, when the bookseller whose shop had been the scene of action and who had witnessed the whole thing, rushed in and declared Oliver's innocence.
The poor child was thereupon released; and the old gentleman—Mr. Brownlow by name—was so sorry for him, and so taken by his frank face, that he took him to his own home and nursed him through a severe illness, the result of all his early privations and recent trouble. Mr. Brownlow even thought of adopting him, and, as soon as he was well enough, let him have books to read out of his own well-stocked library, greatly to the eager Oliver's delight.
SIKES HAD HIM BY THE COLLAR.
It did indeed seem as though the sky had cleared for the boy, but instead still darker days were threatening. Fagin the Jew heard of Oliver's escape with fear and anger. He knew that it would never do for the boy to tell what he knew about the thieves' den. Their one chance of safety lay in seizing him again and making him a thief like themselves, so that his mouth would be closed.
So Fagin called to his aid a burglar, a big, brutal fellow named Bill Sikes, who always went around with a knotted stick and a surly dog. Nancy, a poor girl of the streets, was also put upon the search, and soon their united efforts were successful.
One day after Oliver had begun to grow strong, he was sent by Mr. Brownlow on an errand to a bookshop. He was well dressed in a new suit, and had some books and a five-pound note of Mr. Brownlow's. It was not far, but he accidentally turned down a by-street that was not exactly in his way. He started to turn back, when he heard a girl's voice screaming, "Oh, my dear brother!" And he had hardly looked up to see what the matter was, when he was stopped by having a pair of arms thrown tight around his neck.