Bow to the Board.
This is the boy. Born here, in the work house.
Moved to the parish farm. Nine years old, today.
- Time to be moved back here. - What's your name?
- Oliver Twist. - Boy's a fool.
Boy, listen to me.
- You know you are an orphan? - What's that?
- The boy is a fool. - You know you've got no parents,
and you were raised by the parish? Yes, sir.
- What are you crying for? - I hope you say your prayers every night.
Pray for those who feed you and take care of you, like a Christian?
Well, you have come here to be educated, and to be taught a useful trade.
- Learn from the next boy. - What am I to learn, sir?
- Learn to pick out the oakum. - What's oakum sir?
Stop asking questions. Oakum is the fibers you unpick from the rope.
Then it's used again, for the ships of Her Majesty's Navy.
You're serving your country. Now get on with it.
Tom, give it a rest, will you? We're trying to sleep.
- Can't sleep. Too hungry. - We're all hungry.
- Yes, but I'm frightened. - Frightened, why?
Why?
I'm so hungry. I'm frightened I might eat the lad that sleeps next to me.
Oh Lord God,
for the blessing of this generous meal that Thou has placed before us,
we give thanks. Amen.
Please, sir. I want some more.
- What? - Please, sir. I want some more.
Fetch the Beadle!
Mr. Limbkins?
I beg your pardon, sir. Oliver Twist has asked for more.
For more! Compose yourself, and answer me distinctly.
Do I understand that he asked for more, after he ate his supper?!
He did, sir.
That boy will be hanged.
Five pounds, and a boy...
When I says whoa, I means whoa!
Hel... healthy...
ap, ap... apprentice!
Five pounds.
Chimney sweeping is a nasty trade.
Young boys have been smothered in chimneys, before now.
Because they light wet straw in the chimney, to make them come out, again.
Wet straw makes smoke. Smoke puts a boy to sleep. That's what he wants.
Boys is very lazy, but there's nothing like a blaze to get them out, in a run.
It's humane, too. Yes. Even if they're stuck in a chimney,
roasting their feet makes them struggle to extricate their selves.
Yes.
- He's fond of chimney sweeping? - Loves it, Your Worship.
Very well, I'll sign the indentures...
to make him Mr. Gamfield's apprentice.
My boy.
My boy! You look pale and alarmed? What's the matter?
Please, sir.
- What is it, my boy? - Don't...
- Now, then. - Don't...
Go on, my boy. Don't, what?
- Don't send me away to this dreadful man, sir. - Of all the designing orphans I've...
Be quiet, Beadle.
- Did Your Worship speak to me? - Yes, hold your tongue.
We refuse to sanction these indentures.
Take the boy away, and treat him kindly. He seems to want it.
I've just taken the measure of 2 women who died last night.
- You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry. - Think so?
- The prices set by the board are very small. - So are the coffins.
By the by, you don't know anyone who wants a boy, do you?
Liberal terms, Mr. Sowerberry, liberal terms.
Now,
you're to meet your new master. Pull the cap off your eyes.
Hold your head up, sir. Dry your eyes, sir.
- Is that you, Bumble? - No one else, Mr. Sowerberry.
- I've brought the orphan. Oliver Twist. - So this is the orphan, is it?
Mrs. Sowerberry, you'll have the goodness to come here a moment?
Oliver Twist. How comes an orphan to have a name at all?
- I invented it. - You, Mr. Bumble?
I, Mr. Sowerberry. I name our foundlings in alphabetical order.
The last was 'S'.
Swibble, I named him. This was 'T'. Twist...
I named him.
Next one that comes will be Unwin, and the next, Vilkins.
- I've got names ready right up to 'Z'. - Why, your quite a literary character, sir.
Well, well.
- Perhaps I'll... maybe. - Mrs. Sowerberry this is the orphan.
- He's very small. - He'll grow, Mrs. Sowerberry.
Yes, I dare say he will, on our food and drink.
Workhouse boys always cost more to take, than their worth.
Get down stairs, you bag of bones.
Charlotte,
give this boy some of the cold bits that were put by for the dog.
Hope you don't mind sleeping around coffins. Doesn't matter either way,
for you can't sleep anywhere else.
Open the door, will you?
You the new boy?
- Yes, sir. - How old are you?
10, sir.
Then I'll whop you one, when I get in, you workhouse brat.
- I beg your pardon, sir, did you knock? - I kicked.
Did you want a coffin, sir?
- You don't know who I am? - No, sir.
I'm Mr. Noah Claypole, and you're under me.
Now, take down the shutters!
Saved a nice bit of bacon for you, from the master's breakfast.
In the corner, and be quick about it. They want you to mind the shop. You hear?
- You hear, Workhouse, in the corner. - Noa, let the boy alone.
Let him alone? Everybody's let him alone.
His mother, father, and all his relations, has let him alone.
So he needs someone who don't.
Supper!
Oliver, ain't you done yet? I've never known such an idle boy.
Get down them stairs.
Mr. Sowerberry? Supper.
- I've had a thought, my dear. - A thought?
- Be careful, you'll get brain fever. - It's about young Twist.
What about him? - Very good-looking boy.
He will be. He eats enough.
There's an expression of melancholy in his face, my dear.
He would make a delightful mute, my love.
I don't mean a regular mute to attend grown-up funerals, my dear,
but only for children's practice.
Look at him.
Workhouse boy and a sneak. Look at him.
Mark my words, he'll be hung.
Can't be too soon.
Workhouse? How's your mother?
- She's dead. - What she die of, Workhouse?
Oh, you gonna cry, Workhouse? What set you off?
Not you.
- Not me? - No, not you.
You better not say anything about my mother!
Better not? About your mother?
Well, I'm very sorry, and I pity you very much.
But your mother was a regular, right-down, bad'un.
What did you say? - A regular right-down bad 'un.
It's good she died when she did, or she'd be hard laboring or transported... or hung!
That's most likely, isn't it?
Help, Misses, Charlotte!
He'll murder me! Help!
Help! Get off!
For God's sake!
Help me!
- Beast! Animal! - He's murdering me!
Get off! Get off me, now!
- I've got him now. Got hold of him. - Let me near him!
Workhouse devil! I'll learn you!
- Oh, you brat! - Get the door, Charlotte. In with him. In!
Very violent indeed, sir.
And the misses said, if Mr. Bumble can spare the time...
then Mr. Bumble's to flog him, because the master's out.
- He's in there. - Oliver?
Let me out of here!
- Do you know this here voice, Oliver? - Yes!
Aren't you afraid of it, sir? Aren't you trembling as I speak, sir?
No!
- He's mad. - It's not madness, it's meat.
Meat. You over-fed him. If you'd kept him on gruel, this would never have happened.
Dear, dear. This comes of being liberal.
- What's all this? - Oliver Twist has turned violent.
Look what he's done to my eye, sir.
Now then, now then. You're a nice young fellow, ain't you?
He called my mother names.
And what if he did? Ungrateful wretch! She deserved what he said, and worse!
- She did. - It's a lie!
Do something Mr. Sowberry. He called me a liar.
Do something!
I...
I beg you pardon, miss...
but would you be so kind..
Get off my land.
We don't want no beggars here! Go on!
Get off, or I'll put the dog on you!
I haven't much, but you're more than welcome to it.
Be careful, it's hot.
Seeing you gave me such a turn.
My eyes ain't what they were, but..
I just thought for a moment, that...
Why are you on the road at all, a little mite like you?
- Where are you headed? - London, ma'am.
London? London!
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
Hello, my man.
What's your game?
You're not from these parts?
Where you from, then?
I've been walking. 7 days.
7 days? Cor! I expect you want grub?
And you shall have it.
I'm at a low-water mark myself, at the moment, but I'll fork out and stump.
Come on, up with you. On your pins.
- Thank you very much. - There you are, dear.
By the by, my name is Jack Dawkins, better known as the Artful Dodger.
Oliver Twist.
Why are you known as the Artful Dodger?
That's why.
Got any lodgings? Money?
Suppose you want some place to sleep tonight, don't you?
- Buy your 'Daily News'! One penny! - Fresh melon!
I expect you walking so long was a Beak's order?
- What's that mean? - Don't you know what a Beak is?
- A bird's mouth, isn't it? - You are green! A beak's a magistrate.
- Where you been all your life? - Get off me you...
...I want to talk to you... ...she's coming up...
I thought it was here.
...Put your back into it.
...Where I am, mate...
Just give it here...
Knock it off...
- Now, then. - Plummy and slam.
- There's two of you. Who's he? - A new pal.
- Where's he from? - Greenland. Where's the old'un?
Upstairs, sorting the wipes.
This is him, Fagin. My new friend, Oliver Twist.
Well, well, Oliver Twist.
I hope I have the honor of a more intimate acquaintance.
Very glad to see you, Oliver. Dodger, take off the sausages.
Let's make a space at the table, for Oliver.
You're staring at the handkerchiefs, eh, my dear?
There's a lot of them. We just got them ready for the wash.
That's all, my dear.
Blow it. Hot.
Now, then, Oliver? What you must have, is a hot gin and water.
Warms the cockles. Only drink it quick, because another gentleman wants the tumbler.
Such a nice lad.
I've the feeling he'll turn out a hard worker.
Oliver?
Clever dogs.
Fine fellows.
Fine fellows...
Why are you awake? What have you seen? Speak out! Quick, or it's your life!
I wasn't able to sleep longer. I'm sorry I disturbed you.
- You weren't awake a moment ago? - No sir.
Of course you were asleep, my dear. I only tried to frighten you.
You're a brave boy, Oliver.
- Did you see any of those pretty things? - Yes, sir.
They're mine. My little property.
For my old age. It's our secret.
You understand, my dear? Yes sir. Can I get up now, sir?
- I hope you've been at work. - Hard as nails.
Good boys. Good boys.
- What you got, Dodger? - Pocketbooks.
- Lined? - Pretty well.
I don't know, Dodge.
Not as heavy as they might be. Very neat, and nicely made.
- Ingenious workman, ain't he Oliver? - Indeed, sir.
- Charley, what have you got? - Wipes.
Wipes?
They're very good ones. Oh, very!
You haven't marked them well. The marks should be picked out with a needle.
- We'll teach Oliver how to do it? - If you like, sir.
You'd like to make them as easy as Charley Bates?
Very much. If you'll teach me, sir.
I never met anyone so green!
Now then, boys. The game.
We'll show Oliver how to make pocket handkerchiefs.
- You'd like to play a game, wouldn't you? - Yes, sir.
- Got the time, guv? - It's... 8 o'clock.
- Playing the game, were we? - As is our custom, my dear.
- He's new. Who's he? - This is Oliver.
Oliver,
these are our very good friends, Bet and Nancy.
Dodger, you want to learn from him. He's got manners, he has. Proper gentleman.
- We popped in because we're that cold inside. - As is your custom, my dear.
Oliver, join us. Or don't you sit with common folk?
Be careful of this lot. They'll have you pickin'...
Picking out the marks. That's what we was teaching him, ain't it Oliver?
- Yes, sir. - Yes, sir? You know who you're talking to?
- What'll your mom say about you being here? - I'm an orphan.
You're in the right company, then.
I'll teach you how to play. It's called Spec or Speculation.
3 cards each and then the one he turns up, is trumps.
This is a pleasant life, ain't it, my dear?
- When can I go out, sir? - Soon. Soon.
Lets see what you've learned.
- Would you like that? - Oh yes, sir.
See if you can take this out, without my feeling it.
Is it gone?
You're a clever boy, my dear.
I never saw a sharper lad.
Here's a shilling for you.
Make the Dodger and Charley your models. Especially the Dodger.
He'll be a great man himself. Make you one too.
You go on this way, you'll be the greatest man of the time.
Thank you, sir.
Lovely white apples. Lovely apples.
Biggest cabbages in town. Come on.
That one with the wide brim.
Too expensive.
Thief! Your handkerchief, sir. Thieves!
Stop! Thief!
Him!
That way!
Stop, thief!
Stop that boy!
Where's the gentleman?
- Give him air. - Where's the gentleman?
- Here he is.
- This the boy? - I'm afraid it is.
Afraid it is. That's a good one.
- Poor fellow's hurt himself. - I did that, sir.
Hurt my knuckle again his mouth, but I stopped him.
- Get up. - It wasn't me, sir.
- It wasn't me. - Course not. It never is. Get up!
- Don't hurt him. - Oh no, sir, I won't hurt him.
This way, gentlemen.
- What's next? - That's my name and address, sir.
Officer, who is this fellow?
- My name is Brownlow. - Be quiet.
What's this fellow charged with?
Oh, no, he's not charged. He appears against the boy.
- Swear him. - I must beg to say one word...
- Hold your tongue. - I won't, sir!
Hold your tongue!
Your and insolent, impertinent fellow. How dare you bully a magistrate.
Swear this person, I'll not hear another word.
I do solemnly swear to tell the truth, so help me God.
- What's the charge? - I was standing...
Hold your tongue! Policeman, what is this?
- Are there any witnesses? - None.
- The boy is ill. - Yes, I dare say.
Come on vagabond, none of your tricks here. What's your name?
Water.
What's your name, you hardened scoundrel? Officer, what's his name?
Your name, boy?
Some water. Some water.
- His name is Sam Waters. - Where does he live?
- Where do... anywhere he can, Your Worship. - Stuff and nonsense.
- Don't try and fool me. - I think he really is ill.
I know better, or my name's not Fang.
Stand away, he's shamming.
He stands committed for 3 months. Hard labor. Clear the office.
- Stop! Don't take him away! - What is this? Who is this?
- Turn this man out. - I will not be turned out! I will speak!
I saw it. I own the bookshop.
- I must speak. - What's there to say?
- It was not this boy. - Who was it then?
2 other boys robbed him, while he was reading. I saw it.
- This boy was amazed by it. - Why didn't you come before?
- I hadn't a soul to mind the shop. - Reading, you say? A book, then?
Yes. The one he has in his hand.
I forgot all about it.
You're a nice one. To prefer a charge against an innocent boy.
I consider that you obtained that book under suspicious and disreputable circumstances.
- Bookseller, do you want to press charges? - Certainly not!
Think yourself fortunate that he declines to prosecute.
- The boy is discharged. Clear the office! - Damn me!
Clear the office! Next case!
Come on. Move along, sir, please. There's a good gentleman, move along.
Hold on, Harry. I'll give you a hand.
Make way for the law, sir.
Careful with him.
Call a coach, pray. I'm sorry.
Poor boy.
- Mind yourself, madam. - Thanks.
- Got one, sir. - Thank you, officer.
Let me, sir. Here we go.
- Could you drop me off, sir? - Course.
Alright. If you could just take his head, sir.
- Where to, sir? - Pentonville.
- Yes.
Answer me! Where is he? Speak out, or I'll throttle you!
The traps have got him. Let go of me!
Bull's-eye!
Who pitched this at me? Who done it?
Bull's-eye. Come in, you sneakin' warmint.
What you stopping outside for?
Lay down.
What you up to, Fagin? Ill-treating the boys again?
I wonder they don't murder you. I would if I was them.
Don't speak so loud. You seem out of sorts, Bill.
Give us a drink, and don't poison it.
Charley.
Good stuff, Bill.
So, Dodger,
what's it all about? A new boy.
Come out before he was ready. Got nabbed by the traps.
You see, Bill, I'm afraid he may say something that'll get us into trouble.
Your blowed upon, Fagin. And about time.
I'm afraid that if the game was up with us, it would be worse for you,
then it would be for me, my dear.
Somebody's gotta find out, at the office, what's being done to him.
- Somebody gotta get him. - I ain't going near there. Not for nobody!
I have the very thing, Bet will go. Won't you, my dear?
Blessed if I will.
- Nancy, what do you say? - It won't do, don't even try.
- What you mean? - What I say.
You're just the person. Nobody knows anything about you.
I don't want them to neither! Its more "no" than "yes" with me, Bill.
- She'll go. - No she won't, Fagin.
Yes she will, Fagin.
Can I help you?
I'm looking for my brother.
- Who would he be? - Lovely little boy.
Lovely manners. Gentle as falling snow.
We don't get many of those. I think you'll be wanting Mr. Fang's court.
George? This young lady's looking for her brother.
- I think he's the one that fainted. - A gentleman took him away.
What gentleman?! Heavens, what gentleman?!
- Well, lives in Pentonville, I believe. - Oh my god.
Wait, his card's here somewhere.
Thank you, sir.
Mr. Brownlow!
There's something in him that touched my heart, Mrs. Bedwin.
- Can't explain it. - I feel the same, sir.
Who is he? What is he? You know nothing of him!
He had a fever. What of that?
Bad people have fevers.
A man in Jamaica who was hanged for murdering his master, had a fever 6 times.
- I know there is goodness in him. - How?
And innocence. I knew it from the beginning.
He'll deceive you. Let you down just like all your other innocent causes.
If that boy's good and innocent, I'll eat my own head, sir.
How do you feel, my dear?
Very happy, sir.
- And very grateful to you, indeed, sir. - Good boy.
Have you given him any nourishment, Bedwin? Any slops?
Not slops, sir. Broth.
A couple glasses of port wine would have done him more good, right, Sam?
My name is Oliver.
Oliver?
- Oliver what? Oliver Waters? - No, sir, Oliver Twist.
- Why did you tell the officer it was Waters? - I didn't, sir.
- You did not? - No, sir.
- You're not angry, are you, sir? - No.
Queer name, Oliver Twist.
- There are many books, are there not? - A great number, sir.
I never saw so many.
How would you like become a clever man, and write books?
I think I'd rather read them, sir.
Wouldn't you like to be a book writer?
I think I'd rather be a bookseller, sir.
You have said a very good thing.
Well, well,
we won't make an author of you while there's an honest trade to be learned.
- You going to send me away, sir? - No, my child.
I'm not going to desert you, unless you give me cause.
- I never will, sir. - I hope not, because I trust you.
Thank you, sir.
- Glad I won't have to wear those again. - We all are, my dear.
There.
Hello. What's that?
This is Oliver Twist.
- A bookseller's boy brought this. - Stop him. There's books to go back.
- That the boy who had the fever? - That's the boy.
- No sign of him, sir. - Oh dear, I'm sorry for that.
- I wish some books to be returned, tonight. - Send Oliver.
- He's sure to deliver them safely. - Do let me take them.
If you please, sir, I'll run all the way.
You shall go. Mrs. Bedwin will show you the way.
And Oliver, give the bookseller this.
Money I owe him.
I won't be long, sir.
- How long should it take him? - You think he'll come back?
- You don't. - With a 5 pounds in his pocket? I do not.
If that boy returns to this house, I'll eat my own head, sir,
and yours.
Matches...
Meat for your pets. Finest horse meat...
Cats. Dogs.
Oh, my little brother.
I don't believe my eyes.
- Help! - It's a miracle!
- I found him. - Help me!
- Oh, Oliver! - Nancy.
- You're so naughty to make me suffer... - Let me go!
- What's the matter, ma'am? - Run away from his parents. Good people.
Joined a set of thieves. Broke his mother's heart.
- Young wretch. - Go home, you little brute.
- I'm an orphan, I live in Pentonville. - Hear how he braves it out.
- What? - It's true!
- Come home to your poor mother. - I don't know him! Help!
Help? I'll give you help, you little wretch!
And these books? You been stealing?
- You little villain! - That's right. You give it to him.
Bring him to his senses.
I will, misses. You come with me, little wretch.
- It'll do him good. - Who is this man?
Mind him, Bull's-eye. - Help! Help!
Look at him!
Hold me somebody!
Hold me somebody, while I laugh it out. Look at his togs, Fagin!
Delighted to see you lookin' so well. If you'd wrote and said you was coming,
we'd have got something warm for supper.
Hello, Fagin. That's mine!
It's mine, Bill. Have the books.
If that ain't mine and Nancy's, I'll take the boy back again.
This isn't fair, Bill. Is it Nancy?
Fair, or not fair, hand over, I tell you.
Give it here, you vicious, old skeleton. Give it here!
For our share of the trouble. You keep the books, if your fond of reading.
- They're very pretty aren't they, Oliver. - Send them back.
They belong to Mr. Brownlow. The books and the money.
- He'll think I stole them. - The boy's right.
You're right, Oliver. They'll think you stole them.
- It couldn't have been better... - Help! Help! Fetch the police!
- The dog will tear him to pieces. - Serve him right.
Fetch the police!
- Step aside or I'll split your head. - I don't care. You'll have to kill me first!
Bull's-eye! Here. Bull's-eye!
Dodger, get after him!
You wanted to get away, my dear? To call the police? We'll cure you of that!
I won't stand by and see this done. You've got the boy.
- What more do you want? - Keep quiet or I'll quiet you for good.
Let him be.
- Your a fine one to make friends with the boy. - God, help me, I am.
He's a thief, a devil, all that's bad, from this night on.
- Ain't that enough for the old wretch? - Come, we must have civil words.
Civil words! You old villain!
- I thieved for you when I was half his age. - It's your living.
And you're the wretch that drove me to it, who might keep me at it, till I die!
Dodger, Charley, put Oliver to bed.
- Them clothes are too good for sleeping. - Charley's right.
- This suit cost more than four pence ha'penny. - Never felt such lovely stuff, you?
No. I bet it's the same stuff the Queen wears on Sundays.
Quick, get him. Take it off.
Lift him up.
Up he goes.
Get his shoes.
Little something for your luncheon?
Shall we have a little chat?
Oliver? Shall us?
I expect you'd welcome the sound of a human voice again, my dear?
Do you know what I consider the greatest sin in the world, my dear?
Ingratitude.
That's what your guilty of. Ingratitude.
We took you in, cherished you, and how do you repay us?
You run away, cry out for the police, you cause us great anxiety, and expense.
There was a lad like you once. He indeed, ran away to the police.
Can you guess how he ended up?
They hanged him. At the old Bailey.
Certain evidence was made available, not all of it precisely true, but...
all of it necessary to provide for my own safety, and that of my friends.
Poor boy. Hanged.
Terrible thing hanging, Oliver. Dawn, the gallows,
the rope, the noose. You don't always have to be guilty.
They'll hang you for anything, these days. They're very fond of hanging!
If you do as your told, we'll be very good friends, yet.
Feel free to walk about now, Oliver.
Yes, feel free.
- Oliver? - Yes.
You'll assist me in my toilet, straight away.
- Will you do that for me, my man? - All right. I'll be glad of the company.
You may start by japanning my trotter-cases. In plain English, clean my boots.
- What a pity he ain't a prig. - Don't know what's good for him.
- Suppose you don't even know what a prig is. - Yes I do, it's a thief.
You're one.
Yes I am. We all are, down to the dog. He's the downiest one of the lot.
- And the least given to peaching. - He wouldn't even bark in a witness box.
He's an out-and-out Christian, he is.
Why not put yourself under Fagin, make a fortune out of hand.
Like your gentleman in Pentonville. Big house, that.
I had a peep at it, I did. Nice inside, was it?
Yes, and I slept in a proper bed, in my own room.
- Good stuff on the walls, eh? - Yes, indeed.
Put yourself under Fagin, and you'll retire to a property just like that.
And do the genteel.
- He's scared he'll be scragged. - I don't know what that means.
You don't take wipes and watches,
some other cove will, and you have the same right to them as they have.
It all lies in a nutshell, my dear.
Take his word for it, he understands the teachings of the trade.
Cabbie?
- I've come from Bill. - For what?
- For no harm. - I don't believe it.
If I could help you I would, but I've not the power. Now,
I've promised him you'll be good and silent. If not, you'll do yourself harm. And me too.
- Did he come quiet? - Like a lamb.
Sit down.
And let me read you a lecture.
Know what this is?
- Yes. - Well, then.
This is powder.
That's a bullet.
And this is a little bit of an old hat, for wadding.
Now it's loaded.
Yes, I can see it is, sir.
If you speak when we're outdoors, unless I speak to you,
this loading will go in your head, without notice.
If you do decide to speak without leave, say your prayers first.
What you mean is,
if he crosses you, you'll stop him telling tales with a shot to the head.
- And you'll take your chances swinging for it. - Right..
Women always use the fewest words.
Supper, Nancy.
Then a snooze afore startin'.
My pal Bill.
The door's open, come in.
Don't make such a row.
- Show us a glim, Toby. - Barney, a glim. Show the gentleman in.
Barney? Wake up first, if convenient.
Mr. Sykes. Come in, sir, come in.
Bill, my boy. Glad to see you.
- Who's this? - Only, the boy.
- One of Mr. Fagin's lads? - Yeah. It's time.
Right. Barkers for me, Barney.
- They're loaded. - Good.
- The persuaders? - Got them.
Keys, centre-bits...
darkies.
Nothing forgotten?
Here's all quiet.
I can't.
- You will. - It's Mr. Brownlow's house.
Have mercy on me. Don't make me steal from him.
- Come here. - Let me run away and die in the fields.
- I'll never come near London. - Shut it. Get up,
or I'll strew your brains on the grass.
I'm putting you through there. Go unfasten the front door.
I can't. There's a bolt on top. I can't reach it.
Well, stand on a chair, or something. Just do it.
To the door! To the front door, damn you!
Who's there?
Mrs. Bedwin?
Is that you?
Grab him!
Save me! Save me, for God sakes!
Help!
Police!
Give him here.
- God, damnation, how he bleeds! - Is he hit bad?
He's hit worse.
Gimme a pistol. What?!
We gotta get rid of him or he'll squeal. Gotta do him in.
Here, down by the river.
Bill! Bill!
- Help! Help! - Bill!
Bill?
Snap!
Snap.
Snap!
- Snap. - No, it wasn't.
Well, well. How are you, Fagy?
Scarce, scarce!
- Where's Bill. - He's... he's bleeding!
- What happened? - All in good time.
I can't talk business till I've ate and drank.
Nancy, I said scarce. Scarce!
- Where's Bill? - Produce sustenance, if you please.
Dodger. Nancy, scarce!
- The crack failed. - I smelled that.
I won't ask again, where's Bill?
Put him to bed. Give him a nip of gin.
The boy was about to blow on us, Fagy. He was seen.
He was seen? Who saw him?
Two old ones. He shouted out. Bill lost his head and fired his pistol.
Hit the boy?
I don't know. There was 2 shots. Only one was Bill's.
We ran. I had a hold of the boy, and Bill fell.
Fell? Was he hurt? Last seen, he was swimming to London.
Bull's-eye.
I told you not to bring a soul here. Now you've brought the devil.
You said to fetch him.
His fever's so high, he don't remember.
You're not well, are you? How do you feel today?
I'm as weak as water. Get us a drink.
- What evil wind has blowed you here? - No evil wind, my dear.
You, Bill. You said we need to speak.
- Where's that boy? - Safe and sound.
Dodger's minding him. They're as close as Cain and Able.
What about the boy, Bill?
We don't want him peaching on us, do we? As long as he's alive, we're as good as hung.
So, what's to be done?
- Nothing, not till I'm better. - Then what?
- Then I'll do for him. - How? Where?
- I'll find a river somewhere, and drown him. - The boy's weak.
He's wounded. He can hardly stand, let alone walk.
When he can walk, tell me. I'll fetch him.
Get out of here.
Yes.
Your right. It's for the best.
I'm burning up. Where's me physic?
You look like a walking corpse. What's the matter?
Nothing. What you looking at me so hard for?
- What you thinking of? - Of many things. What's odds in that?
I'll tell you. If you haven't caught the fever,
then there's something unusual in the wind. And something dangerous, too.
Give me my physic, I say.
No, no, no.
There ain't a stauncher hearted girl going, or I'd have cut her throat 3 months ago.
You've got a fever coming on, that's it.
Here, it'll make you feel better.
Sit aside me.
Put on your own face, or I'll alter it so you won't know it again.
- Wait. - Ma'am.
- Yes. - Does Mr. Brownlow live here?
Who are you? What do you want?
- Go around the back. - I have information about Oliver Twist.
Is he all right? Is he safe?
Where is he? I will only talk to Mr. Brownlow.
- He's not here. - The boy's innocent. Tell him that.
- Where is he? - Safe.
- But he may not be for long. - Where is he!?
I'll meet with Mr. Brownlow. Sunday at midnight on London Bridge.
If I'm not there, tell him to come the next night, and the next.
Tell him.
Oh, my dear, you look as good as new.
- How do you feel? - Tired, sir.
Well, yes, it is long after midnight, shortly you'll go to sleep,
but my meaning was, how do you feel in yourself?
Better, sir, but for the ache in my arm.
Come, sit.
I've the very thing, for such pains as yours. Undo the bandage.
It's a nasty wound. But my magic will do the trick, you'll see.
This remedy is older than time. Yes! Older than time.
It was handed down from father to son... and comes from...
who can say where?
Thank you for your kindness. I'll always remember it.
Always. Yes, always, my dear.
But who knows how long that will be?
An hour this side of midnight. Dark and heavy it is, too.
Good night for business, this.
What a pity there's none quite ready to be done.
For once, your right.
- When will the boy be ready to go traveling? - Like I said,
- In a day or two. - It's a pity.
- For I'm in the humor, too. - Does me good to hear you.
Quite like yourself, tonight, Bill, eh?
Not when you've got that withered old claw on my shoulder, so take it away.
Hello, Nance. Where's a girl going, this time of night?
- Not far. - What answer's that? Where you going?
- I say, not far. - And I say where?
- I dunno where. - And I do. Nowhere. Sit down.
I want a breath of air.
- Put your head out the window. - It's not enough. I want it in the street.
Then you won't have it.
There. Now, stop quietly where you are, will you?
Know what you're doing?
Do I know what I'm... Girl's lost her senses, talking to me like that!
You'll drive me to something desperate. Let me go, this minute!
No!
Tell him to let me go, Fagin. It'll be better for him. Do you hear me?
I hear you. If I have to listen to you for half a minute longer,
The dog'll tear that voice right out of your throat.
What's come over you, you jade?
Bill, let me go.
Let me go. You don't know what you're doing.
For only 1 hour.
Cut my limbs off if the girl's not stark, raving mad. Get up.
- Get up! - No.
Now, stay there.
What a strange girl.
- You may say that. - What took it in her head to go out tonight?
Obstinacy, Women's obstinacy?
I thought I'd tamed her of that.
I think she's got a touch of my fever in her blood, that won't come out.
If she's like that again, I'll let her a little blood, without troubling the doctor.
Well, now she's on the other tack.
Goodnight. In 2 days, Bill, come for the boy.
Light him down.
It's a pity he should fall and break his neck, without anyone seeing it.
Show him a light.
What is it, Nancy, the reason for all this?
What?
No matter, just now. We'll speak of this anon.
You have a friend in me, Nance. A staunch friend, Nance.
I know you well. Goodnight.
Dodge, pull it in.
My glass is full already, can't you see?
Trouble.
Dodger?
Shall we find out where old Tom is?
Shall we both take him home?
Honestly, I haven't seen her.
Is something up?
I want you to do a piece of work for me that requires great care and caution.
What is it? I ain't going near no police office...
There's not the smallest danger in it.
- I want someone dodged. - Who? An old one?
- Young one. - Who?
- One of us. - Who?
Nancy?
What's she done?
Not sure she's done anything, that's why I want her dodged.
She may want to talk to people she shouldn't. I want to know who she sees, what she says.
Nancy, I don't know. She's a good one, Nancy.
A pound, my dear, one whole pound.
Mr. Brownlow?
Yes.
I'm afraid to speak to you here. Follow me.
This is far enough.
- Why can't we speak up there? - I told you, I'm afraid I'm being followed.
I'm here because you say you have information about Oliver.
- I have. - Tell me.
He's being held by a devil, and he's handing him over to another one, that means to...
Is it someone close to you?
One is, one ain't.
These men must be delivered up by you.
Bad a life as he has led, I've led too, and I won't turn upon him.
The other...
Fagin.
He has the boy. Fagin?
Find Fagin.
- Where is he? - Spitalfields. I've already said too much.
- No one must never know who told you. - I promise.
- Tomorrow, I'll put the matter to the police. - Do it tonight. The traps know Fagin.
- The traps? - The police.
- What can I do to serve you? - Nothing, you can do nothing.
- I'm past all hope, indeed. - Take this, as a reward.
No. I've not done this for money. God bless you.
Goodnight.
Never, never say who told you.
Look at him.
It's a shame. With his face, he could rob old ladies' in church.
His face could be a fortune to us.
You changing your mind?
No. No, Bill, it has to be done.
Fagin!
- What's got into you? - I must see Fagin alone.
You can speak in front of Bill.
Yes you can. Speak, Dodger, tell us.
- Nancy. - What about her?
- I had him dodge Nancy. - What do you mean?
Tell us. You followed her?
Yes. To London Bridge.
What on London Bridge?
- She met and old one. A gentleman. And... - And? Speak will you!
She peached! She told him Fagin and Oliver.
And the old man wants to go to the traps, now, tonight!
Let me go! Don't speak to me, it's not safe!
Hear me speak a word. Bill, you won't be ...
You won't be too violent, Bill?
Flit, boys! The traps will be at the door before you can say Spitalfields.
Flit!
Oh, It's you.
Bill? What's the matter?
Why do you look like that at me?
- There's enough light for what I've got to do. - What have I done?
- Speak to me. - You know.
You was watched tonight. Every word you said was heard.
I never said your name, Bill. Never. Never.
Bill?
Oh God, have mercy!
Nance?
I haven't done nothin'... Be off with you.
Hello, Fagy. Hello, lads.
- What's the news? - Here it is. It's all in 'The Chronicle'.
Your in it.
- Bill's in it. Oliver's in it. - 'The Chronicle'?
Fancy that, your famous, Fagin.
More is now known about the foul, and bestial murder that happened in Spitalfields,
and has appalled the citizens of London.
It is believed,
that a victim, a young woman, now identified as Nancy,
was brutally beaten to death...
by one William Sykes, a well known, dangerous, villain.
Your correspondent has learned that the murdered woman...
had informed on her associate, and on an infamous fence, Fagin,
who is now wanted for the abduction of a young boy, Oliver Twist.
Neither a Fagin nor Sykes are presently in custody, but police are searching...
throughout the city, and beyond.
Sykes, according to the police, is usually accompanied by a fierce, white dog.
How about that?
Come back here.
We're going back.
Got people to speak to.
Force shiners out of Fagin, get to France. Damn me, we'll risk it.
Not another one.
Who's he done in?
- They say it's a woman. - He done in a woman?
Bull's-eye.
You hear me?
You gone deaf, or something?
Come here. Come on.
Ain't gonna harm you.
Come here.
Stop it, you! I ain't playing with you!
Let it go, varmint!
Bull's-eye!
Get back here!
Damn it!
It's his dog! It's his dog!
- Here, boy. Here. - Don't go near him.
A child is in danger, Inspector. But you only seem interested,
in capturing William Sykes. Your concern should be for the boy.
Allow me to say, this is our way of doing business.
My thinking is this.
If we catch Sykes, we get Fagin. If we get Fagin...
Sir, we've found the dog.
- We can't just wait for the traps to find us? - Shut it.
No, he's right. We should do another flit.
The traps!
What?
It's him!
- Don't let him in. - We must.
Go on.
Go on!
Don't leave us in the dark.
Damn you all.
Have you nothing to say to me?
It's not safe here, Bill.
If it's safe for you, it's safe for me.
Is it... The body, is it buried?
Dodger, let him in, quick.
Do as I say.
Don't come near me, monster.
I'm not afraid of him.
If they come, I'll give him up. I'll tell them you're here.
He may kill me, but if I'm here I'll give him up.
If he's to be boiled alive, I would.
Take him off of me!
Help! He's here! Break down the door! Help!
Please!
Damn you. Do your worst. I'll cheat you yet!
- Bill, no, he's our bargaining tool. - Not yours, Fagin. Mine!
Don't fire!
- Don't fire. - Hold your fire, men.
I'll let the boy go. I'll let it drop.
Don't try nothing, or I let him go!
Up there, over the roof.
Get it. Grab a hold of that.
We must give chase, sir!
Get down!
Grab it! Grab it!
Oliver?
- Here he is, sir. - Come on, my boy.
Mr. Grimwig has something to say to you.
- Do the honors, Mrs. Bedwin. - Young man, I confess I misjudged you.
I feared your benefactor might make me eat my head!
But he's a good friend, and has pardoned me.
And one for Oliver. And you too Mrs. Bedwin.
- I don't know ... - You must.
So I'll take the liberty, if you allow me, to salute you.
To Sam Waters.
Oliver Twist.
To Oliver Twist.
My, Oliver.
My child, what's the matter? Why are you so sad?
- Are you certain you wish to do this? - Yes, sir.
Certain.
Yes.
Is the young gentleman to come too, sir? It's no sight for children, sir.
It is not. But this child has seen this man in the full career of his villainy.
It is his wish, even at the cost of pain and fear, that he should see him now.
18.
Ho hey!
Good boy, Charley. Well done...
- Take the boy to bed. - Don't be frightened. Fagin.
That's me. An old man, my Lord. A very old man.
- Someone here to see you. - Strike them dead.
Got no right to butcher me!
Speak to him, now. Quickly. He worsens with time.
- Fagin, you were kind to me. - Yes, yes. I'll be kind again...
I'll be kind again.
- I'm not afraid. - Oliver!
Let me whisper to you.
You remember the box, Oliver? With my pretty things for my old age?
It hid up the chimney, in the top front room. It's yours, Oliver.
- It's yours but we must talk. - But shall we say a prayer together, first?
Do. Say only one, upon your knees, with me...
and we can talk all morning.
Outside, you can say I've gone to sleep. They'll believe you.
You can get me out, and pretty things are yours.
- Oh God, forgive this wretched man. - That's right, that will help us on.
If I shake and tremble as we pass the gallows,
don't you mind. Hurry on. Yeah, yeah.
- Have you more to say to him? - Nothing more.
- You'd better leave him. - Press on, press on... softly.
Softly, softly. No, no slow. Faster! Faster! Faster!
Mind yourselves.