Олівер Твіст

Chapter 50

           ‘Iwillgivefiftypounds,’criedanoldgentlemanfromthesamequarter,‘tothemanwhotakeshimalive.Iwillremainhere,tillhecometoaskmeforit.

           Therewasanotherroar.Atthismomentthewordwaspassedamongthecrowdthatthedoorwasforcedatlast,andthathewhohadfirstcalledfortheladderhadmountedintotheroom.Thestreamabruptlyturned,asthisintelligenceranfrommouthtomouth;andthepeopleatthewindows,seeingthoseuponthebridgespouringback,quittedtheirstations,andrunningintothestreet,joinedtheconcoursethatnowthrongedpell-melltothespottheyhadleft:eachmancrushingandstrivingwithhisneighbor,andallpantingwithimpatiencetogetnearthedoor,andlookuponthecriminalastheofficersbroughthimout.Thecriesandshrieksofthosewhowerepressedalmosttosuffocation,ortrampleddownandtroddenunderfootintheconfusion,weredreadful;thenarrowwayswerecompletelyblockedup;andatthistime,betweentherushofsometoregainthespaceinfrontofthehouse,andtheunavailingstrugglesofotherstoextricatethemselvesfromthemass,theimmediateattentionwasdistractedfromthemurderer,althoughtheuniversaleagernessforhiscapturewas,ifpossible,increased.

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