In the very instant when Oliver began to run, the old gentleman, putting his hand to his pocket, and missing his handkerchief, turned sharp round.  Seeing the boy scudding away at such a rapid pace, he very naturally concluded him to be the depredator, and, shouting “Stop thief!” with all his might, made off after him, book in hand.  The Dodger and Master Bates, who had merely retired into the first doorway round the corner, no sooner heard the cry, and saw Oliver running, than they issued forth with great promptitude; and, shouting, “Stop thief!  Stop thief!” too, joined in the pursuit like good citizens.

“Stop thief!” The cry is taken up by a hundred voices, the tradesman, the carman, the butcher, the baker, the milkman, the school-boy, follow in hot pursuit.  Away they run, pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash:  tearing, yelling:  screaming, knocking down the passengers as they turn the corners, splashing through the mud, and rattling along the pavements, following after the wretched, breathless, panting child, gaining upon him every instant.  Stopped at last!  A clever blow!  He is down upon the pavement, covered with mud and dust, looking wildly round upon the heap of faces that surround him.

“Yes,” said the old gentleman, “I am afraid that is the boy.  Poor fellow! he has hurt himself!”

Just then a police officer appeared and dragged the half fainting boy off, the old gentleman walking beside him, Oliver protesting his innocence as they went.  At the police station Oliver was searched in vain, and then locked in a cell for a time, while the old gentleman sat outside waiting, and read his book.  Presently the boy was brought out before the Magistrate; and the policeman and the old gentleman preferred their charges against him.  While the case was proceeding, Oliver fell to the floor in a fainting fit, and as he lay there the Magistrate uttered his penance, “He stands committed for three months of hard labour.  Clear the office!” A couple of men were about to carry the insensible boy to his cell, when an elderly man rushed hastily into the office.  “Stop, stop!” he said.  “Don’t take him away!  I saw it all.  I keep the book-stall.  I saw three boys loitering on the opposite side of the way when this gentleman was reading.  The robbery was committed by another boy.  I saw it done; and I saw that this boy was perfectly amazed and stupified by it!”

Having by this time recovered a little breath, the bookstall keeper proceeded to relate in a more coherent manner the exact circumstances of the robbery, in consequence of which explanation Oliver Twist was discharged, and carried off, still white and faint, in a coach, by the kind-hearted old gentleman whose name was Brownlow, who seemed to feel himself responsible for the boy’s condition, and resolved to have him cared for in his own home.

After Charley Bates and the Dodger had seen Oliver dragged away by the police officer, they scoured off with great rapidity.  Coming to a halt Master Bates burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.