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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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'
Twelve
miles
down
the
river
,
and
cut
to
pieces
besides
,
'
replied
Bumble
,
recoiling
at
the
thought
.
Monks
drew
the
little
packet
from
his
breast
,
where
he
had
hurriedly
thrust
it
;
and
tying
it
to
a
leaden
weight
,
which
had
formed
a
part
of
some
pulley
,
and
was
lying
on
the
floor
,
dropped
it
into
the
stream
.
It
fell
straight
,
and
true
as
a
die
;
clove
the
water
with
a
scarcely
audible
splash
;
and
was
gone
.
The
three
looking
into
each
other
's
faces
,
seemed
to
breathe
more
freely
.
'
There
!
'
said
Monks
,
closing
the
trap-door
,
which
fell
heavily
back
into
its
former
position
.
'
If
the
sea
ever
gives
up
its
dead
,
as
books
say
it
will
,
it
will
keep
its
gold
and
silver
to
itself
,
and
that
trash
among
it
.
We
have
nothing
more
to
say
,
and
may
break
up
our
pleasant
party
.
'
'
By
all
means
,
'
observed
Mr.
Bumble
,
with
great
alacrity
.
'
You
'll
keep
a
quiet
tongue
in
your
head
,
will
you
?
'
said
Monks
,
with
a
threatening
look
.
'
I
am
not
afraid
of
your
wife
.
'
'
You
may
depend
upon
me
,
young
man
,
'
answered
Mr.
Bumble
,
bowing
himself
gradually
towards
the
ladder
,
with
excessive
politeness
'
On
everybody
's
account
,
young
man
;
on
my
own
,
you
know
,
Mr.
Monks
.
'
'
I
am
glad
,
for
your
sake
,
to
hear
it
,
'
remarked
Monks
.
'
Light
your
lantern
!
And
get
away
from
here
as
fast
as
you
can
.
'
It
was
fortunate
that
the
conversation
terminated
at
this
point
,
or
Mr.
Bumble
,
who
had
bowed
himself
to
within
six
inches
of
the
ladder
,
would
infallibly
have
pitched
headlong
into
the
room
below
.
He
lighted
his
lantern
from
that
which
Monks
had
detached
from
the
rope
,
and
now
carried
in
his
hand
;
and
making
no
effort
to
prolong
the
discourse
,
descended
in
silence
,
followed
by
his
wife
.
Monks
brought
up
the
rear
,
after
pausing
on
the
steps
to
satisfy
himself
that
there
were
no
other
sounds
to
be
heard
than
the
beating
of
the
rain
without
,
and
the
rushing
of
the
water
.
