Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven

(A small example discussing Magistrate Van Ang and his approach to cases.) This case took place within the jurisdiction of a well-known branch of the Metropolitan Police Department, and it is very close to this branch.The crowd was content only to follow Oliver two or three streets, till they came to a place called Madon Hill.He was escorted down a low archway, up a dirty patio, and into the Summary Court through the back door.This was a small stone courtyard. As soon as they entered, they met a burly man with a beard and a bunch of keys. "What's the matter again?" He asked casually.

"Caught a bag," replied the policeman who was guarding Oliver. "Sir, are you the one involved in the theft?" the man holding the key asked again. "Yes, I am," answered the old gentleman, "but I'm not sure it was the boy who stole the handkerchief. I—I don't want to pursue it." "Go and see the magistrate first, sir," replied the man carrying the key. "Sir, he'll be done soon. Come here, you little fellow, you really deserve to be hanged." These words were an invitation to Oliver, and as he spoke he opened the door for Oliver to enter, and inside a stone cell, Oliver was searched from head to toe, and found nothing. It was found, and the door was locked again.

The cell was a cellar-like shape and size, only less bright, and unbearably dirty.It's Monday morning now, and six drunks have been locked up here since Saturday night, and they're all locked up elsewhere now.However, this is not a problem.Compared with the countless men and women who are thrown into the dungeons every night in our police station for big crimes-that's not a big deal-the Newgate prisons who tried, The cells of the most savage and brutal felons, convicted and sentenced to death, were almost palaces.Let the doubter, whoever he is, compare. The key clicked in the lock, when the old gentleman looked almost as dismayed as Oliver, and heaved a long sigh, and looked at the book in his hand, which was innocent, and all the trouble It is because of it.

"There's something about that kid's looks," the old gentleman walked aside thoughtfully, tapping his jaw with the cover of the book, and said to himself, "Something touches me, sucks me in." Is he innocent? He seems to be something like—this, this,” the old gentleman stopped suddenly, staring at the sky, and then said loudly, “My God—I used to Where did you see it, it looks very similar to him?" The old gentleman pondered for a while, and walked into a reception room facing the courtyard at the back with the same expression of hard thinking, walked silently to a corner, and brought back to his mind the countless faces that had been hidden behind the heavy curtain for many years middle. "No," he said, shaking his head, "it must be imagination."

He looked back at the faces again.He had summoned them before his eyes, and it was not easy to close the curtain that had hidden them for so long.One by one, there were relatives and friends, there were also enemies, and many faces that were almost completely unknown also crowded in the crowd unexpectedly.The girl who used to be like a flower and a jade is now in her dying years.There are a few faces that have been buried in the ground, and they have changed, but the soul has surpassed death, making them still as beautiful as before, calling for the piercing eyes, hearty smile, and the light of the soul through the body seems to be whispering , although the beauty under the loess has changed beyond recognition, it has been sublimated. She transcends the world, just to become a bright light, shedding a soft and beautiful light on the way to heaven.

The old gentleman did not recall anyone who looked a little like Oliver.With a long sigh, he bid farewell to the past that he had awakened, but luckily he was only in a daze.The old gentleman buried it all back in the pages of the book, the book that didn't help. A touch on the shoulder brought him to his senses, and the man with the key asked the old gentleman to accompany him into the court.He quickly closed the book, and was immediately led to meet the prestigious Mr. Fan Ang. The courtroom is a vestibule with a coffered wall.Mr. Fanon was seated behind a rail above, and poor little Oliver had been settled in the railing by the door, and he trembled with terror at the sight.

Mr. Fanon was thin, of medium build, with a slender waist and a stiff neck.He doesn't have much hair, mostly on the back and sides of his head.His face was stern and overly red.If he really didn't have a drinking habit, he could have sued his look for libel and knocked it out for big damages. The old gentleman bowed respectfully, walked towards the judge's writing desk, handed over a business card, and said, "Sir, this is my name and address." After that, he took two steps back and was very polite. He nodded his head and waited for the other party to ask questions. Mr. Fanon happened to be studying an editorial in that morning's paper concerning a recent decision which had been brought to his special attention by the Home Secretary for the three hundred and fiftieth time.He was very angry, and when he looked up, his face was full of displeasure.

"Who are you?" said Mr. Fanon. The old gentleman pointed to his business card with some consternation. "Officer," said Mr. Van Ang, arrogantly flipping the card away with the newspaper, "who is this fellow?" "Sir, what's my name?" The old gentleman showed a gentleman's demeanor, "My name is Brownlow, sir. Please allow me to ask the name of the officer. The officer actually used his status as a law enforcement officer to humiliate a decent person for no reason. said Mr. Brownlow, scanning the courtroom with his eyes, as if looking for someone who would give him a satisfactory answer.

"Officer," said Mr. Fanon, throwing the newspaper aside, "what crime has this fellow committed?" "My lord, he did not commit a crime," replied the inspector. "He sued the boy, my lord." The judge asked the question knowingly.This move is too irritating, and there is no need to take risks. "It seems to be suing the boy, isn't it?" said Mr. Van Aung, looking over Mr. Brownlow from head to toe in a haughty manner. "Make him swear." "Before I swear, I must say something," said Mr. Brownlow, "that, if I hadn't experienced it myself, I really wouldn't believe it—"

"Shut up, sir," said Mr. Fanon imperiously. "Sir, I must say it." The old gentleman showed no sign of weakness. "Shut up at once, or I'll throw you out of court," said Mr. Fanon. "You insolent fellow, how dare you threaten a judge?" "What!" the old gentleman blushed and yelled. "Swear this man," said Pham to the clerk. "I won't listen to anything else. Make him swear." Mr. Brownlow was very angry, but, perhaps thinking that an outburst would only hurt the boy, suppressed his feelings, and did so at once.

"Oh," said Fanon, "what charge is this boy? What have you to say, sir?" "I was standing by a bookstall at the time—" began Mr. Brownlow. "Stop, sir," said Mr. Van Aung. "Inspector. Where is the Inspector? Here, swear on the Inspector. Tell me, Inspector, what's the matter?" The policeman related, with considerable humility, how he had seized Oliver, how he had searched him all over, and found nothing, and that was all he knew. "Are there any witnesses?" asked Mr. Fanon. "My lord, no." The police officer replied. Mr. Fanon sat silently for some minutes, then, turning to the plaintiff, said in a sharp voice: "Hey, do you want to bring charges against this kid, huh? You've sworn, huh, if you just stand there and refuse to produce evidence, I'm going to hold you in contempt of court, I want--" What to do, or whom to do, no one knew, for at that moment the clerk and the policeman coughed loudly together.The former dropped a heavy book on the floor, and just like that, the sentence was not heard completely, purely by accident. In spite of numerous nagging and repeated insults and scoldings, Mr. Brownlow tried his best to tell the story of the case. He said that because of a momentary surprise, he saw the child running hard, and he chased after him. He expressed that I hope that although the child was not captured during the theft, if the judge believes that he is involved with several thieves, please let him go within the scope of the law. "He is wounded," said Mr. Brownlow at last, "and I fear," he added solemnly, looking beyond the rail, "that I do fear he is ill." "Oh, yes, maybe it is." Mr. Fan Ang sneered, "Hmph, don't come here, you little rascal, you can't fool me, what's your name?" Oliver tried to answer, but could not speak.His face was pale, and everything around him seemed to be spinning in front of his eyes. "What's your name, you thick-skinned scoundrel?" demanded Mr. Fanon. "What's his name, officer?" The words were addressed to a warm-hearted old man in a striped vest standing by the railing.The old man bent down, asked again, and found that Oliver was really unable to answer.He knew that not answering would only irritate the judge even more and aggravate the sentence, so he boldly made it up. "My lord, he said his name was Tom White," said the good policeman. "Oh, he didn't say it, did he?" said Mr. Fanon. "Very, very well. Where does he live?" "Not sure, my lord." Again he pretended to hear Oliver's reply. "Where are the parents?" Mr. Fanon asked. "He said they were all dead when he was a boy, my lord." The officer took a risk and took a common answer. Asked here, Oliver raised his head, looked around with pleading eyes, and begged feebly for a sip of water. "Let's talk nonsense," said Mr. Van Ang. "Don't take me for a fool." "My lord, I think he is really sick." The police officer said. "I know better than you," said the judge. "Officer, hold him quickly," said the old gentleman, raising his hands involuntarily. "He's going to fall." "Stand aside, Sergeant," cried Van Aung, "he'll fall in love." With the magistrate's permission, Oliver fell faintly on the floor.The people in the court looked at each other, and no one dared to move. "I knew he was playing crazy," Van Ang said, as if that statement was irrefutable fact. "Let him lie there, he'll get tired of lying there before long." "How do you intend to settle the case, my lord?" asked the clerk in a low voice. "Summary judgement," replied Mr. Van Aung, "three months' imprisonment—hard work, of course. Retire." The door opened, and two men were about to drag the unconscious Oliver into the cell, when an old man in an old black suit rushed into the court and walked towards the trial seat.He had a sad look on his face, but he was clearly a decent man. "Wait, wait. Don't take him away. For God's sake, wait a moment," cried the man who had just arrived, breathlessly. Notwithstanding the patron saints of the law in these yamens tyrannizing the liberty, honour, character, and even life of Her Majesty's subjects, especially the poorer ones, although within these four walls absurdity enough The trick of making the angels cry and blind their eyes is repeated day after day, and all this is kept secret from the public, except through the daily newspapers.Mr. Fanon was instantly enraged at the sight of an uninvited visitor so abruptly entering the door. "What is this for? Who is this? Get this guy out, and get them all out of here." Mr. Fan Ang roared like thunder. "I just want to say," cried the man, "don't try to throw me out. I've seen it all. I keep the bookstand, and I beg my swear, and no one will try to keep my mouth shut. Mr. Fanon , you must listen to my statement, you cannot refuse." That person was justified, and his attitude was tenacious. The matter became quite serious, and it was impossible to pass it sloppily. "Let this man swear," Mr. Van Ang shouted unhappily, "hey, tell me, what do you want to say?" "Well," said the man, "I saw three children with my own eyes, and the other two, together with the defendant, were loitering across the road. The gentleman was reading at the time, and it was another boy who stole. Yes, this kid is petrified by the side." At this point, the venerable shopkeeper of the bookstall regained his breath, and he told the story of the pickpocketing case in a more orderly manner. "Why didn't you come sooner?" Van Ang asked after a pause. "No one looks after the shop for me, and everyone who can help me has been chased out. I only found someone five minutes ago, and I ran all the way here." "The prosecutor is reading, isn't he?" Fan Ang asked after another pause. "Yes, he still has the book." "Oh, is that the book, oh?" Fan Ang said, "Did you pay for it?" "No, I haven't paid yet." The stall owner replied with a smile. "My God, I forgot all about it," exclaimed the somewhat dazed old gentleman innocently. "What an honorable gentleman, he came to report on a poor child." Fan Ang made a funny look, hoping to appear very kind. "I suppose, sir, that you have appropriated that book to yourself under very dubious and dishonorable circumstances, and you may consider yourself lucky that the proprietor has no intention of suing. Say, Take it as a lesson for you, or the law will find you one day. The child is released. Retire." "That's unreasonable." Mr. Brownlow's suppressed anger finally broke out. "That's unreasonable. I'm going to—" "Leave the court." The judge didn't allow him to say anything. "Men, police officers, do you hear me? Retire." The order was executed.Mr. Brownlow, holding a book in one hand and a bamboo stick in the other, was thrown out despite his indignation.Excitement and provocation made him furious.When he came to the yard, his anger dissipated immediately.Little Oliver Twist was lying on his back on the ground, his shirt was unbuttoned, some cold water had been sprinkled on his temples, his face was pale, his body twitched and shivered. "Poor boy, poor boy," said Mr. Brownlow, stooping towards Oliver. "Please fetch a carriage, some one, and hurry." The carriage was called, Oliver was carefully seated, and Mr. Brownlow stepped into the other seat. "May I go with you?" said the book stall owner, sticking his head in. "Oh, yes, my dear sir," repeated Mr. Brownlow, "I forgot you, dear, dear. I've still got this wretched book. Come up. Poor little fellow." .There is no further time to waste." The book stall manager jumped on it, and the carriage drove away.