After Bill Sikes and Toby Crackit had abandoned him, Oliver lay unconscious in the ditch until early morning. At last a low cry of pain broke the stillness. It was the day after the robbery and Oliver was awakening.
His left arm, crudely bandaged in a shawl, hung heavy at his side. He was so weak that he could scarcely sit up. When he had done so, he looked feebly around for help. Trembling from cold and exhaustion, he made an effort to stand but fell back onto the ground.
For a while he remained unconscious, but something within warned him that if he stayed there, he would surely die. So he struggled to his feet and stumbled forward. Staggering on, he crept over fences and through hedges until he came to a road. Here the rain began to fall so heavily that it roused him. He looked up and saw a house not far away. Perhaps the occupants would have pity on him and take him in.
As he drew nearer, he felt that he had seen the house before. But where? Suddenly he remembered. It was the very house they had attempted to rob! Oliver knew he must flee, but he could scarcely stand. He climbed the front steps, knocked faintly at the door, and, with his strength failing him, sank down against a porch pillar.
At that moment the two male servants who had gone out in pursuit of Oliver were entertaining the cook and the housemaid with the story of the previous night's adventures.
"It was about half-past two when I woke up," said Mr. Giles, the butler, sipping tea in the kitchen. "I heard a noise."
"What kind of noise?" asked the cook.
"A noise like somebody was forcing open a door or a window. I decided to wake up Brittles and save him from being murdered in his bed."
Here everyone looked at Brittles, who was still called the lad-of-all-work even though he was over thirty years old.
"I tossed off my bedclothes," said Mr. Giles. "Then I got softly out of bed, put on a pair of—"
"There are ladies present, Mr. Giles," warned Brittles.
"A pair of shoes." Mr. Giles turned to him and laid great emphasis on the word. "Then I seized the loaded pistol that I always take upstairs at night. I walked on tiptoes to Brittles' room. 'Brittles,' I said when I woke him, 'don't be frightened.'"
"Was he frightened?" asked the cook.
"Not a bit," replied Mr. Giles.
"I would have died at once if it had been me," observed the housemaid.
"You're a woman," said Brittles.
"Brittles is right." Mr. Giles nodded his head approvingly. "Nothing else is to be expected from a woman. But being men, we took a lantern and groped our way downstairs."
Mr. Giles had risen from his chair and taken two steps forward to demonstrate their actions when a sound startled everyone in the kitchen. The cook and the housemaid screamed.
"It was a knock at the front door," said Mr. Giles, perfectly calm. "Open the door, somebody."
Nobody moved.
"A knock coming so early in the morning seems strange. But somebody must open the door."
Mr. Giles looked at Brittles, who said nothing.
"If Brittles would prefer to open the door in the presence of witnesses, I will be one," said Mr. Giles.
Brittles went upstairs, followed by Mr. Giles and the two women, who were too frightened to stay behind in the kitchen. They talked loudly to warn any evil person outside that they were strong in number.
Brittles opened the door while the others peeked over his shoulders. And there sat poor little Oliver Twist.
"A boy!" exclaimed Mr. Giles, pushing Brittles aside. "Why, Brittles, do you know who this is?"
Mr. Giles grabbed Oliver and lugged him into the front hall.
"Here's one of the thieves, ma'am!" Mr. Giles called up the staircase. "He's wounded, miss! I shot him and Brittles held the light."
The two female servants ran upstairs to carry the news to old Mrs. Maylie, the owner of the house, and her niece, Rose. Mr. Giles tried to revive Oliver so that he wouldn't die before he could be hanged.
In the midst of all this commotion, a sweet female voice quieted everything in an instant.
"Giles!" whispered Rose, a pretty young woman.
"Don't be frightened, miss. He didn't make a very desperate resistance. I was soon too much for him."
"Hush!" replied the young lady. "You frighten my aunt as much as the thieves did. Is the poor creature badly hurt?"
"Wounded desperately."
"He looks as if he is dying, miss," called Brittles. "Would you like to come and look at him in case he does?"
Rose preferred to consult with her aunt. She soon returned to the top of the stairs with the instructions that the wounded person was to be carried carefully up to Mr. Giles' room. Brittles was ordered to ride to Chertsey and send for the doctor and a policeman.
"Poor fellow!" said Rose as she refused yet another offer to look at the thief. "Oh, treat him kindly, Giles, for my sake."
An hour later Dr. Losberne bustled into the room where Rose and her aunt were finishing breakfast.
"My dear Mrs. Maylie! I never heard of such a thing! Breaking into a house in the middle of the night!" exclaimed the doctor. "You ought to be dead with fright! And you, Miss Rose—"
"Yes, indeed," said Rose, interrupting him. "But there is a poor creature upstairs whom my aunt wishes you to see."
"Ah, to be sure. Lead me to him, Giles. This was your handiwork, I understand."
The doctor followed the butler upstairs.
The doctor was absent much longer than either he or the ladies had anticipated. The servants ran up and down the stairs as a large box was fetched out of his carriage and the bedroom bell was rung very often. At last Dr. Losberne rejoined Rose and Mrs. Maylie.
"This is a very extraordinary thing," he said. "Have you seen the thief?"
"No," said Mrs. Maylie.
"Then you should come with me at once." He offered one arm to Rose and held out his other hand to Mrs. Maylie. "I promise there's nothing alarming in his appearance."
Leading them upstairs, he paused for a moment outside the bedroom. Then he threw open the door.
"Oh, my!" said Mrs. Maylie.
"He's only a boy!" gasped Rose.