The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-07-24 00:00:00

his gin-and-water in silence, end read the paper with great
pomp and importance.
It so happened, however—as it will happen very often when
men fall into company under such circumstances—that Mr.
Bumble felt every now and then a powerful inducement,
which he could not resist, to steal a look at the stranger, and
that whenever he so, he withdrew his eyes in some con-
fusion, to find thatßlie stranger was at that moment stealing
a look at him. Mr. Bumble's awkwardness was enhanced by
the very remarkable expression of the stranger's eye, which
was keen and bright, Lot shadowed by a scowl of distrust and
suspicion unlike anything he had ever observed before, and
most repulsive to behold.
Whed they had encountered each other's glance several
times in this way, the stranger, in a harsh, deep voice, broke
silence.

" Where you looking for me," he said, " when you peered
in at the window ?"
"Not that lam aware of, unless -you're Mr. ." Here
Mr. Bumble stopped short, for he was curious to know the
stranger's name, and thought, in his impatience, he might
supply the blank.
" I see you were not," said the stranger, an expression of
quiet sarcasm playing about his mouth, "or you would have
known my name. You don't know it, and I should recom-
mend you not to inquire."
" I meant no harm, young man," observed Mr. Bumble
majestically.
" And have done none," said the stranger.
Another silence succeeded this short dialogue, which was
again broken by the stranger.
" I have seen you before, I think," said he. " You were
differently dressed at that time, and I only passed you iu the
street, but I should know you again. You were beadle here
once, were you not?"

" I was," said Mr. Bumble. in some surprise. " Parochial
beadle."

"Just so," rejoined the other, nodding his head: "It was
in that character I saw you. What are you now ?"
"Master of the workhouse," rejoined Mr. Bumble slowly
and impressiVely, to check any undue familiarity the stranger
might otherwise assume. "Master of the workhouse, young
man !"
"You have the same eye to your own interests that you
always have had, I doubt not ?" resumed the stranger, look-
ing keenly into Mr. Bumble's eyes as he raised them in as-
tonishment at the question. "Don't scruple .to answer
freely, man, I know you pretty well, you see."
"I suppose a married man,"- replied Mr Bumble, shading
his eyes with his hand, and surveying the stranger from head
to foot in evident perplexity, "is not more averse to turning
an honest penny when he can than a single one. Parochial
officers are nut so well paid that they can afford to refuse any
little extra fee, when it comes to them in a civil and proper
manner."

The stranger smiled, and nodded his head again, as much
as to say he found he had not mistaken his man; then rang
the hell.

" Fill this glass again," he said, banding Mr. Bumble's
empty tumh!er to the landlord. " Let it be strong and hot.
You like it so, I suppose?"
" Not too strong," replied Mr. Bumble, with a delicate

cough.
" You understand what that means, landlord !" said the
stranger drily.
The host smiled, disappeared, and shortly afterwards re-
turned with a steaming jorum, of which the first gulph brought
the water into Mr. Bumble's eyes.

" Now, listen to me," said the stranger, after closing the
door and window. " 1 came down to this place to-day to
find you out, and, by one of those chances which the devil
throws in the way of his friends sometimes, you walked ihto
the very, room I was sitting in while you were uppermost in
my mind. I want some information from you. and dont' ask
you to give it for nothing, slight as it is. Put up that to
begin with."
As he spoke he pushed a couple of sovereigns across the
table to his companion carefully, as though unwilling that
the chinking of money should be heard without; and when
Mr. Bumble had scrupulously examined the coins to see that
they were genuine, and put them up with much satisfaction
in his waistcoat pocket, he went on.
"Carry your memory back—let me see—twelve years last
winter."

" It's a long time," said Mr. Ruml,lc.
done it."
The scene the Workhouse."
" Good !"
" And the time night."
" Yes."

" Very good. I've

" And the place the crazy hole, wherever it was, in which
miserable drabs brought forth the life and health so often de-
nied to themselves—gave birth to puling children for the
parish to rear, and hid their shame, rot 'em, in the grave."
"The lying-in room, I suppose that means ?" said Mr.
Bumble, not quite following the stranger's excited descrip-
tion.

" Yes," said the stranger. " A boy was born there."
" A many boys," observed Mr. Bumble, shaking his head
despondingly.
" A murrain on the young devils !" cried the stranger im-
patiently; " I speak of one, a meek-looking, pale-faced
hound, who was apprenticed. down here, to a coffin-maker.

(I wish he had made his coffin, and screwed his body in it,;
and who afterwards ran away to Lyndon, as it was sup
nosed."

r"Why, you mean Oliver—young
,Twist r' said Mr. Bum-
ble; " I rember him, of course. here wasn't a obstinater
young rascal—"
" Ira not of him I want to hear ; I've heard enough of

him," said the stranger, stopping Mr. Bumble in the very
outset of a tirade on the subject of poor Oliver's vices.—
" It's of a woman—the hag that nursed his mother. Where

is she ?"

" Where is she?" said Mr. Bumble, whom the gin and
water had rendered facetious. "It would be hard to tell.
There's no midwifery there, whichever place she's gone to;
so I suppose she's out of employment any way."
" What do you mean ?" demanded the stranger, sternly.
" That she died last winter," rejoined Mr. Bumble.
The man looked fixedly 'at him when he bad given this
information, and although he did not withdraw his eyes for
some time afterwards, his gaze gradually became vacant and
abstracted, and he seemed lost in thought. For some time
he appeared doubtful whether be ought to be relieved or dis-
appointed by the intelligence, but at length he breathed
more freely, and withdrawing his eyes, observed that it was
no great matter, and rose as if to depart.
Mr. 'Bumble was cunning enough, and he at once saw
that an opportunity was opened for the lucrative disposal of
some secret in the possession of his better half. He Well
remembered the night of old Sally's death, which the occur-
rences of that day had given him good reason to recollect as
the occasion on which he had proposed to Mrs. Corney; and
although that lady had never confided to him the disclosure
of which she had been the solitary witness, he had heard
enough to know that it related to something that had oc-
curred in the old woman's attendance as workhouse nurse,
upon the yvong mother of Oliver Twist. Hastily calling this
circumstance to mind, he informed the stranger, with an air
of mystery, that one woman had been closetted with the old
harridan shortly before she died, and that she could, as he had
reason to believe, throw some light on the subject of his in-
quiry.
" how can I find her?" said the stranger, thrown off his
guard, and plainly showing that all his fears (whatever they
were) were aroused afresh by the intelligence.
"Only through me," rejoined Mr. tumble.
"When?" cried the stranger hastily.
"To-morrow," rejoined Bumble.

- -
"At nine in the evening," said the stranger, producing a
scrap of paper, and writing down an obscure address, by the
water-side, upon it, in characters that betrayed his agitation,
"at nine in the evening, bring her to me there. I needn't
tell you to be secret, for it's ',our own interest."
With these words he led the way to the door, after stopping.

- . . • .
to pay for the liquor that had been drunk ; and shortly re-
marking that their roads were different, departed without
more ceremony than an emphatic repetition of the hoUr of
appointment for the following night.
On glancing at the address, the parochial functionary ob-
served that it contained no nacre. The stranger had not
gone so far, so he made after him to ask it.
" Who's that ?" cried the man turning quickly round as
Bumble touched him on the arm; "following me."
"Only to ask a question," said the other, pointing to the
scrap of paper. " What name am Ito ask for?"
"MONKS!" rejoined the man, and strode hastily away.