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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 398/420
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'
The
tide
,
'
cried
the
murderer
,
as
he
staggered
back
into
the
room
,
and
shut
the
faces
out
,
'
the
tide
was
in
as
I
came
up
.
Give
me
a
rope
,
a
long
rope
.
They
're
all
in
front
.
I
may
drop
into
the
Folly
Ditch
,
and
clear
off
that
way
.
Give
me
a
rope
,
or
I
shall
do
three
more
murders
and
kill
myself
.
The
panic-stricken
men
pointed
to
where
such
articles
were
kept
;
the
murderer
,
hastily
selecting
the
longest
and
strongest
cord
,
hurried
up
to
the
house-top
.
All
the
window
in
the
rear
of
the
house
had
been
long
ago
bricked
up
,
except
one
small
trap
in
the
room
where
the
boy
was
locked
,
and
that
was
too
small
even
for
the
passage
of
his
body
.
But
,
from
this
aperture
,
he
had
never
ceased
to
call
on
those
without
,
to
guard
the
back
;
and
thus
,
when
the
murderer
emerged
at
last
on
the
house-top
by
the
door
in
the
roof
,
a
loud
shout
proclaimed
the
fact
to
those
in
front
,
who
immediately
began
to
pour
round
,
pressing
upon
each
other
in
an
unbroken
stream
.
He
planted
a
board
,
which
he
had
carried
up
with
him
for
the
purpose
,
so
firmly
against
the
door
that
it
must
be
matter
of
great
difficulty
to
open
it
from
the
inside
;
and
creeping
over
the
tiles
,
looked
over
the
low
parapet
.
The
water
was
out
,
and
the
ditch
a
bed
of
mud
.
The
crowd
had
been
hushed
during
these
few
moments
,
watching
his
motions
and
doubtful
of
his
purpose
,
but
the
instant
they
perceived
it
and
knew
it
was
defeated
,
they
raised
a
cry
of
triumphant
execration
to
which
all
their
previous
shouting
had
been
whispers
.
Again
and
again
it
rose
.
Those
who
were
at
too
great
a
distance
to
know
its
meaning
,
took
up
the
sound
;
it
echoed
and
re-echoed
;
it
seemed
as
though
the
whole
city
had
poured
its
population
out
to
curse
him
.
On
pressed
the
people
from
the
front
--
on
,
on
,
on
,
in
a
strong
struggling
current
of
angry
faces
,
with
here
and
there
a
glaring
torch
to
lighten
them
up
,
and
show
them
out
in
all
their
wrath
and
passion
.
The
houses
on
the
opposite
side
of
the
ditch
had
been
entered
by
the
mob
;
sashes
were
thrown
up
,
or
torn
bodily
out
;
there
were
tiers
and
tiers
of
faces
in
every
window
;
cluster
upon
cluster
of
people
clinging
to
every
house-top
.
Each
little
bridge
(
and
there
were
three
in
sight
)
bent
beneath
the
weight
of
the
crowd
upon
it
.
Still
the
current
poured
on
to
find
some
nook
or
hole
from
which
to
vent
their
shouts
,
and
only
for
an
instant
see
the
wretch
.
'
They
have
him
now
,
'
cried
a
man
on
the
nearest
bridge
.
'
Hurrah
!
'
The
crowd
grew
light
with
uncovered
heads
;
and
again
the
shout
uprose
.
'
I
will
give
fifty
pounds
,
'
cried
an
old
gentleman
from
the
same
quarter
,
'
to
the
man
who
takes
him
alive
.
I
will
remain
here
,
till
he
come
to
ask
me
for
it
.
'
