Олівер Твіст

Chapter 37

           ‘When?’criedthestranger,hastily.

           ‘To-morrow,’rejoinedBumble.

           ‘Atnineintheevening,’saidthestranger,producingascrapofpaper,andwritingdownuponit,anobscureaddressbythewater-side,incharactersthatbetrayedhisagitation;‘atnineintheevening,bringhertomethere.Ineedn’ttellyoutobesecret.It’syourinterest.

           Withthesewords,heledthewaytothedoor,afterstoppingtopayfortheliquorthathadbeendrunk.Shortlyremarkingthattheirroadsweredifferent,hedeparted,withoutmoreceremonythananemphaticrepetitionofthehourofappointmentforthefollowingnight.

           Onglancingattheaddress,theparochialfunctionaryobservedthatitcontainednoname.Thestrangerhadnotgonefar,sohemadeafterhimtoaskit.

           ‘Whatdoyouwant?’criedtheman.turningquicklyround,asBumbletouchedhimonthearm.‘Followingme?’

           ‘Onlytoaskaquestion,’saidtheother,pointingtothescrapofpaper.‘WhatnameamItoaskfor?’

           ‘Monks!’rejoinedtheman;andstrodehastily,away.

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