SAVED!
Where am I? , I asked in a weak voice. Slowly I realised that I was laying in a soft bed in a quiet room with a warm fire. ”Am I dead?” I had never known anywhere as comfortable as this in my whole life. ”No no, my poor boy,” said a friendly voice beside him, ”you are in Mr Brownlow´s house. I am Mrs Bedwin, his housekeeper. You have been very ill, we thought that you would die. But you are getting better. I´ll bring you some soup to build up your strength. When you are string enough, Mr Brownlow will visit you”. Later on, I fell into a warm and dreamless sleep.
”You fools!” screamd Fagin. He seized the Artful Dodger and Charley in his surprisingly powerful hands, ”If oliver talks, we will all be hanged. We must get him back! Find him!”
”How? How? Mr Fagin” squeaked the boys, terrified of the old man´s anger.
Suddenly, Fagin’s anger faded. His eyes had a cold, cunning look.
”Nancy, my dear?”
Nancy looked up at Fagin, afraid.
”Nancy, my dear, you must go to the police station. Tell the police that your ‘poor little brother’ is lost and you have heard that he is at the station. Go on, Nancy, be a good girl.”
”No, cried Nancy, ”Me? go to a police station?”
”You’ll go, or you will feel this!” shouted Bill Sykes, jumping to his feet and waving his huge fist in front of Nancy’s terrified eyes.
Nancy’s tears softened the heart of the police sergeant, and he told her that Oliver was at the house of an elderly gentleman who lived in Pentonville, in north London.
”Ah!” said Fagin, when Nancy got back. ”Good news, my dears. Little Oliver has kept his mouth shut, but we still have to find him. Bill, you take Nancy with you, and take a good look around Pentonville. See what you can find. I don’t care if we have to keep serarching for a month. Until we have found him, we´re not safe!”
Where am I? , I asked in a weak voice. Slowly I realised that I was laying in a soft bed in a quiet room with a warm fire. ”Am I dead?” I had never known anywhere as comfortable as this in my whole life. ”No no, my poor boy,” said a friendly voice beside him, ”you are in Mr Brownlow´s house. I am Mrs Bedwin, his housekeeper. You have been very ill, we thought that you would die. But you are getting better. I´ll bring you some soup to build up your strength. When you are string enough, Mr Brownlow will visit you”. Later on, I fell into a warm and dreamless sleep.
”You fools!” screamd Fagin. He seized the Artful Dodger and Charley in his surprisingly powerful hands, ”If oliver talks, we will all be hanged. We must get him back! Find him!”
”How? How? Mr Fagin” squeaked the boys, terrified of the old man´s anger.
Suddenly, Fagin’s anger faded. His eyes had a cold, cunning look.
”Nancy, my dear?”
Nancy looked up at Fagin, afraid.
”Nancy, my dear, you must go to the police station. Tell the police that your ‘poor little brother’ is lost and you have heard that he is at the station. Go on, Nancy, be a good girl.”
”No, cried Nancy, ”Me? go to a police station?”
”You’ll go, or you will feel this!” shouted Bill Sykes, jumping to his feet and waving his huge fist in front of Nancy’s terrified eyes.
Nancy’s tears softened the heart of the police sergeant, and he told her that Oliver was at the house of an elderly gentleman who lived in Pentonville, in north London.
”Ah!” said Fagin, when Nancy got back. ”Good news, my dears. Little Oliver has kept his mouth shut, but we still have to find him. Bill, you take Nancy with you, and take a good look around Pentonville. See what you can find. I don’t care if we have to keep serarching for a month. Until we have found him, we´re not safe!”
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