38 Oliver Twist - Read By Stephanie Poppins

"Oliver Twist," written by Charles Dickens in the 19th century, tells the story of an orphan boy and his adventures in London's slums. In this episode, there is a shock in the night that disrupts the fragile peace of the darkened city streets, propelling Oliver into unforeseen challenges and encounters.

In this episode, information is put to bad use.

Transcript

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Chapter 38 Containing an account of what passed between Mr and Mrs Bumble at their nocturnal interview.

It was a dull,

Close,

Overcast summer evening.

The clouds,

Which had been threatening all day,

Spread out in a dense and sluggish mass of vapour already yielded large drops of rain.

When Mr and Mrs Bumble,

Turning out of the main street of the town,

Directed their course towards a scattered little colony of ruinous houses distant from it some mile and a half or thereabouts,

And erected on a low,

Unwholesome swamp bordering upon the river.

They were both wrapped in old and shabby outer garments which might perhaps serve the double purpose of protecting their persons from the rain and sheltering them from observation.

The husband carried a lantern from which,

However,

No light yet shone and trudged on a few paces in front as though the way being dirty to give his wife the benefit of treading in his heavy footsteps.

They went on in profound silence.

Every now and then Mr Bumble relaxed his pace and turned his head as if to make sure his helpmate was following.

Then,

Discovering she was close at his heels,

Mended his rate of walking and proceeded at a considerable increase of speed towards their place of destination.

This was far from being a place of doubtful character for it had long been known as the residence of none but low ruffians who,

Under various pretenses of living by their labour,

Subsisted chiefly on plunder and crime.

It was a collection of mere hovels,

Some hastily built with loose bricks,

Others of old worm-eaten ship timber,

Jumbled together without any attempt at order or arrangement and planted for the most part within a few feet of the river's bank.

A few leaky boats drawn up on the mud and made fast at the dwarf wall which skirted it and here and there an oar or coil of rope appeared at first to indicate the inhabitants of these miserable cottages pursued some avocation on the river.

But a glance at the shattered and useless condition of the articles thus displayed would have led a passer-by,

Without much difficulty,

To the conjecture that they were disposed there,

Rather,

For the preservation of appearances than with any view to them being actually employed.

In the heart of this cluster of huts,

And skirting the river which its upper storeys overhung,

Stood a large building formerly used as a manufactory of some kind.

It had in its day probably furnished employment to the inhabitants of the surrounding tenements,

But it had long since gone to ruin.

The rat,

The worm and the action of the damp had weakened and rotted the piles on which it stood and a considerable portion of the building had already sunk down into the water,

While the remainder,

Tottering and bending over the dark stream,

Seemed to wait a favourable opportunity of following its old companion and involving itself in the same fate.

It was before this ruinous building the worthy couple paused as the first peal of distant thunder reverberated in the air and the rain commenced pouring violently down.

The place should be somewhere here,

Said Bumble,

Consulting a scrap of paper he held in his hand.

"'Hello there!

' cried a voice from above.

Following the sound,

Mr Bumble raised his head and described a man looking out of a door breast high on the second storey.

"'Stand still a minute,

' cried the voice,

"'I'll be with you directly.

' With which the head disappeared and the door closed.

"'Is that the man?

' asked Mr Bumble's good lady.

Mr Bumble nodded in the affirmative.

"'Then mind what I told you,

' she said,

"'and be careful to say as little as you can,

Or you'll betray us at once.

'" Mr Bumble,

Who had eyed the building with very rueful looks,

Was apparently about to express some doubts relative to the advisability of proceeding any further with the enterprise when he was prevented by the appearance of monks who opened a small door near which where they stood and beckoned them inwards.

"'Come in,

' he cried impatiently,

Stamping his foot upon the ground.

"'Don't keep me here!

' The woman who had hesitated at first walked boldly in without any other invitation.

Mr Bumble,

Who was ashamed or afraid to lag behind,

Followed.

Obviously very ill at ease and with scarcely any of the remarkable dignity which was usually his chief characteristic.

"'But the devil made you stand lingering there in the wet,

' said monks turning round and addressing Bumble after he had bolted the door behind him.

"'We were only calling ourselves,

' stumbled Bumble.

"'Calling yourselves,

' retorted monks.

"'Not all the rain that ever fell or will ever fall "'will put as much of a hell's fire out as a man can carry about with him.

"'You won't call yourself so easily,

Don't think that.

' With this agreeable speech,

Monks turned short upon the matron and bent his gaze upon her until even she,

Who was not easily cowered,

Was fain to withdraw her eyes.

She turned them towards the ground.

"'This is the woman,

Is it?

' demanded monks.

"'That is the woman,

' replied Mr Bumble.

"'You think women never can keep secrets,

I suppose,

' said the matron interposing.

"'I know they will always keep one until it's found out,

' said monks.

"'And what might that be?

' asked the matron.

"'The loss of their own good name.

"'So by the same rule,

If a woman's a party to a secret,

"'I'm not afraid of telling it to anybody.

"'Not I.

Do you understand,

Mistress?

' "'No,

' rejoined the matron,

Slightly colouring.

"'Of course you don't.

How should you?

' Bestowing something between a smile and a frown upon his two companions,

Monks again beckoned them to follow him.

He was preparing to ascend a steep staircase,

Or rather ladder,

Leading to another floor of the warehouse above.

When a bright flash of lightning streamed down the aperture and a peal of thunder followed,

Which shook the crazy building to its centre.

"'Hear it!

' he cried,

Rolling and crashing "'as if it echoed through a thousand caverns "'where the devils were hiding from it.

"'I hate that sound.

' He remained silent for a few moments,

Then removing his hands suddenly from his face.

He showed to the unspeakable discomposure of Mr.

Bumble it was much distorted and discoloured.

He led the way up the ladder and hastily closing the window shutter of the room into which it led,

Lowered a lantern,

Which hung at the end of a rope and pulley,

Passed through one of the heavy beams in the ceiling.

"'Now,

' said monks,

When they three seated themselves,

"'the sooner we come to our business,

The better.

' "'The woman knows what it is,

Does she?

' The question was addressed to Bumble but his wife anticipated the reply by intimating she was perfectly acquainted with it.

"'He's right in saying you were with this hag "'the night she died and she told you something?

' "'About the mother of the boy you named,

Yes.

' "'The first question is,

What nature was her communication?

' "'That's the second,

' observed the woman.

"'The first is,

What may the communication be worth?

' "'Who the devil can tell that without knowing what kind it is?

' "'Nobody better than you,

I'm persuaded.

' "'Mrs.

Bumble did not want for spirit "'as her young fellow could abundantly testify.

' "'Hmm,

' said monks significantly.

"'There may be a money's worth to get it.

' "'Perhaps there may,

' was the composed reply.

"'Something that was taken from her,

"'something she wore,

Something that.

.

.

' "'You're a better bid,

' interrupted Mrs.

Bumble.

"'I've heard enough already to assure me "'you're the man I ought to talk to.

' "'Mr.

Bumble,

Who had not yet been admitted "'by his better half into any greater share "'of the secret than he'd originally possessed,

"'listened to this dialogue with outstretched neck "'and extended eyes,

Which he directed "'towards his wife and monks by turns "'in undisguised astonishment.

"'What's it worth to you?

' asked the woman.

"'Maybe nothing,

Maybe twenty pounds,

' replied monk.

"'Speak out and let me know which.

' "'Add five pounds to the sum you've named.

"'Give me five and twenty pounds in gold,

' said the woman.

"'And I'll tell you all I know,

Not before.

' "'Five and twenty pounds?

' exclaimed monk,

"'strawing back.

"'I spoke as plainly as I could.

"'It's not a large sum either.

"'Not a large sum for a paltry secret "'that may be nothing,

And which has been "'lying dead for twelve years past or more.

"'Such matters keep well,

And like good wine "'often double their value in the course of time.

"'As to lying dead,

There are those "'who will lie dead for twelve thousand years to come.

"'For anything you or I know,

"'who will tell strange tales at last.

' "'What if I pay it for nothing?

' asked monks,

Hesitating.

"'You can easily take it away again,

' replied the matron.

"'I'm but a woman alone here and unprotected.

' "'Not alone,

My dear,

Not unprotected neither,

' "'submitted Mr.

Bumble in a voice trebulous with fear.

"'I am here,

My dear,

And besides,

"'Mr.

Monks is too much of a gentleman "'to attempt any violence on parochial persons.

"'Mr.

Monks is aware I'm not a young man,

My dear,

"'and I'm a little run to seed.

"'But he has heard,

I say,

Of no doubt,

"'Mr.

Monks has heard,

My dear.

"'I'm a very determined officer,

"'with very uncommon strength if I'm once roused.

' "'Oh,

You want a little rousing,

That's all.

' "'As Mr.

Bumble spoke,

He made a melancholy feint "'of grasping his lantern with fierce determination,

"'and plainly showed by the alarmed expression "'of every feature he did want a little rousing.

"'And not a little.

"'You are a fool,

' said Mrs.

Bumble in reply.

"'You'd better hold your tongue.

' "'He'd better have it cut out before he came "'so he can't speak in a lower tone,

' said Monks grimly.

"'So this is your husband,

Eh?

' "'He,

My husband,

' tittered the matron.

"'I thought as much when you came in.

"'So much the better.

"'I have less hesitation in dealing with two people "'when I find there's only one with will between them.

"'I'm in earnest,

See here.

' He thrust his hand into a side pocket and,

Producing a canvas bag,

Tolled out twenty-five sovereigns on the table and pushed them over to the woman.

"'Now,

' he said,

"'gather them up and when this cursed peal of thunder "'which I feel is coming up to break over the housetop is gone,

"'I'll hear your story.

' "'When this woman that we call Old Sally died,

' the matron began,

"'she and I were alone.

"'Was there no one by?

' asked Monks.

"'No sick wretch or idiot in some other bed?

"'No one who could hear?

"'Might be possibility understanding?

' "'Not a soul,

' replied the woman.

"'We were alone.

"'I stood along behind the body when death came over it.

' "'Good,

' said Monks.

"'Go on.

' "'She spoke of a young creature "'who'd brought a child into the world some years before,

"'not merely in the same room but in the same bed "'in which he then lay dying.

' "'Aye,

' said Monks with a quivering lip.

"'Now things come about.

' "'The child was the one you named to him last night,

' said the matron,

Nodding carelessly towards her husband.

"'The mother this nurse had robbed.

' "'In life?

' asked Monks.

"'In death,

' replied the woman.

"'She stole from the corpse when it had already turned to one,

"'that which the dead mother had prayed her "'with her last breath to keep for the infant's sake.

"'She sold it,

' cried Monks.

"'Did she sell it?

"'To whom?

"'When?

"'Where?

"'How long before?

' "'She didn't utter another word,

' said the woman.

"'It's a lie.

"'I'll not be played with.

"'She said more.

"'I'll tear the life out of you both,

"'but I'll know what it is.

' "'She clutched my gown violently with one hand "'that was partly closed,

"'and when I saw she was dead "'and removed my hand by force,

"'I found it clasped to scrap of dirty paper.

' "'Which contained?

' "'Nothing,

' replied the woman.

"'It was a pawnbroker's duplicate.

' "'For what?

' "'In good time I'll tell you,

' said the woman.

"'I judged she'd kept that trinket for some time "'in the hope of turning it to better account,

"'and had then pawned it,

"'and saved or scraped together enough money "'to pay the pawnbroker's interest year by year "'and prevented it running out.

"'The time was out in two days.

"'I thought something might one day have it come to,

"'so I redeemed the pledge.

"'Where is it now?

' "'There,

' replied the woman,

"'and as if glad to be relieved of it,

"'she hastily threw upon the table a small kid bag,

"'scarcely large enough for a French watch.

' "'Monks pounced upon it,

"'tore it open with trembling hands.

"'It contained a little gold locket "'in which were two locks of hair "'and a plain gold wedding ring.

"'As the word Agnes engraved on the inside,

' "'said the woman.

"'There's a blank left of the surname,

"'then it follows the date,

"'of which is within a year before the child was born.

"'And this is all?

' "'Said monks.

"'All?

' replied the woman.

"'Then light your lantern "'and get away from here as fast as you can.

' "'It was fortunate the conversation terminated at this point "'or Mr.

Bumble,

"'who had bowed himself to within six inches of the ladder,

"'would have infallibly 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,

"'making no effort to prolong the discourse,

"'descended in silence,

"'followed by his wife.

"'They traversed the lower room slowly "'and with caution,

"'for monks started at every shadow.

"'And Mr.

Bumble,

"'holding his lantern a foot above the ground,

"'walked not only with remarkable care,

"'but with a marvelously light step "'for a gentleman of his figure,

"'looking nervously about him for hidden trapdoors.

"'They were no sooner gone "'than monks,

"'who appeared to entertain an invincible repugnance "'to being left alone,

"'called to a boy who had been hidden somewhere below.

"'Bidding him go first and bear the light,

"'he returned to the chamber he had just quitted.

'

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