CHAPTER VIII

Oliver is Arrested

For many days, Oliver remained in the Jew's room, picking the marks out of the handkerchiefs, and sometimes taking part in the game already described. At last he began to feel the need for fresh air and begged the old gentleman to allow him to go out to work with his two companions.

Finally the old Jew granted him his request and the three boys went out. At first they walked at such a slow pace that Oliver began to think that his companions were not going to work at all. But suddenly, just as they were coming out of a narrow street, the Dodger stopped and drew his companions back with the greatest caution.

"What's the matter?" demanded Oliver.

"Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old man at the bookshop?"

"The old gentleman across the street?" said Oliver. "Yes, I see him."

"He'll do," said the Dodger.

"A first class chance," observed Charlie Bates.

Oliver looked from one to the other, with the greatest surprise; but he was not permitted to make any inquiries; for the two boys walked stealthily across the road, closely following the old gentleman. Oliver walked a few steps after them; and, not knowing whether to advance or retreat, stood looking on in silent amazement.

The old gentleman was a very respectable looking person, with a powdered head and gold spectacles. He had taken up a book from the shelf inside the bookshop and there stood, reading as hard as if it were his own study. He was so intent on reading that he saw neither shop, nor street, nor boys; he saw nothing but the book he was reading.

Imagine Oliver's horror and alarm to see the Dodger thrust his hand into the old gentleman's pocket, and draw from it a handkerchief! To see him hand this to Charlie Bates, and finally to see them both running away round the corner at full speed.

In an instant the whole mystery of the handkerchiefs, and the watches, and the jewels, and the Jew rushed upon the boy's mind. He stood terrified and confused for a moment, and then he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.

This was all done in a minute's space. At the very instant when Oliver began to run away, the old gentleman, putting his hand in his pocket and missing his handkerchief, turned sharply round. Seeing Oliver run away at such a rapid pace, he very naturally concluded that he was the robber and, shouting "Stop Thief!" with all his might, ran after him, book in hand.

The Dodger and Bates, hearing the cry and seeing Oliver running, guessed exactly how the matter stood; they stopped running away, and shouting "Stop thief!" too, they joined in the pursuit like good citizens.

"Stop thief! Stop thief!" There is a magic in the sound. The cry is taken up by a hundred voices, and the crowd of pursuers increases at every step and turning. Away they fly, splashing through the mud, and rattling along the pavements.

There is a passion for hunting something deeply fixed in the human breast. One wretched, breathless child, with terror in his eyes; large drops of sweat streaming down his face; his pursuers follow on his track, and gain upon him every instant.

Stopped at last! A clever blow. He is down on the pavement, and the crowd gathers eagerly round him, each newcomer struggling with the others to catch a glimpse. "Stand aside!" "Give him a little air!" "Nonsense! he doesn't deserve it." "Here is the gentleman. Is this the boy, sir?" "Yes."

Oliver lay, covered with mud and dust, and bleeding from the mouth, looking wildly round upon the faces that surrounded him, when the old gentleman was pushed into the circle by the foremost of the pursuers.

"Yes," said the gentleman, "I am afraid it is the boy. Poor fellow! He has hurt himself."

"I did it, sir," said a great big fellow, stepping forward; "I stopped him, sir."

The fellow touched his hat with a smile, expecting something for his trouble; but the old gentleman looked at him with an expression of dislike, and would have run away himself had not a police officer at that moment made his way through the crowd and seized Oliver by the collar.

"Come, get up," said the officer roughly.

"It wasn't me, indeed, sir. It was two other boys," said Oliver, joining his hands passionately and looking round. "They are here somewhere."

"Oh, no, they aren't," said the officer; "come, get up!"

"Don't hurt him," said the old gentleman pitifully.

"Oh no, I won't hurt him," replied the officer, tearing Oliver's jacket half off his back. "Come, I know you; it won't do. Will you stand upon your feet, you young devil?"

Oliver, who could hardly stand, was dragged along the street by the coat collar, at a rapid pace. The gentleman walked on with them by the officer's side; and many of the people in the crowd got a little ahead and stared back at Oliver from time to time. The boys shouted in triumph, and on they went.