The father of Monks had two children who were half brothers, Monks and Oliver Twist.  The father died suddenly, leaving in Mr. Brownlow’s home the portrait of Oliver’s mother, which was hanging in the house-keeper’s room.  The striking likeness between this portrait and Oliver had led Mr. Brownlow to recognise the boy as the child of his dear old friend.  Then, just when he had determined to adopt Oliver, the boy had disappeared, and all efforts to find him had proved unavailing.  Mr. Brownlow knew that, although the mother and father were dead, the elder brother was alive, and at once commenced a search for him.  Now he had discovered him in the man Monks, the friend of thieves and murderers, and by a chance clue he found also that there had been a will, dividing the property between the two brothers.  That will had been destroyed, together with all proofs of Oliver’s parentage, so that Monks might have the entire property.  Fearing discovery, Monks had bargained with Fagin to keep the child a thief or to kill him outright.

This revelation of his crime in all its terrible details, told in clear cutting tones by Mr. Brownlow, while his eyes never left the man’s face, overwhelmed the coward Monks.  He stood convicted, and confessed his guilt.

Then, because the man was son of his old friend, Mr. Brownlow was merciful.

“Will you set your hand to a statement of truth and facts, and repeat it before witnesses?” he asked.

“That I promise,” said Monks.

“Remain quietly here until such a document is drawn up, and proceed with me to such a place as I may deem advisable, to attest it?”

To this also Monks agreed.

“You must do more than that,” said Mr. Brownlow; “Make restitution to Oliver.  You have not forgotten the provisions of the will.  Carry them into execution so far as your brother is concerned, and then go where you please.  In this world you need meet no more.”

To this also, at length Monks gave fearing assent.

A few days later Oliver found himself in a travelling carriage rolling fast towards his native town, with the Maylies, Mrs. Bedwin, Dr. Losberne, and Mr. Grimwig, while Mr. Brownlow followed in a post-chaise with Monks.

Oliver was much excited, for he had been told of the disclosures of Monks, which, together with journeying over a road which he had last travelled on foot, a poor houseless, wandering boy, without a friend, or a roof to shelter his head, caused his heart to beat violently and his breath to come in quick gasps.

“See there, there!” he cried, “that’s the stile I came over; there are the hedges I crept behind, for fear anyone should overtake me and force me back!”

As they approached the town, and drove through its narrow streets, it became matter of no small difficulty to restrain the boy within reasonable bounds.  There was the undertaker’s just as it used to be, only less imposing in appearance than he remembered it.  There was the workhouse, the dreary prison of his youthful days; there was the same lean porter standing at the gate.  There was nearly everything as if he had left it but yesterday, and all his recent life had been a happy dream.