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FLASHBACK. NIGHT
NOAH: I kicked.
OLIVER: Did you want a coffin, sir?
NOAH: You don't know who I am, I suppose.
BUMBLE: Oliver?
OLIVER: Let me out of here!
OLIVER: Yes.
OLIVER: No!
MRS SOWERBERRY: He must be mad.
BUMBLE: It's not madness, ma'am, it's meat.
MRS SOWERBERRY: Meat?
EXT. NIGHT
OLIVER: London.
WOMAN: Dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.
FAGIN: Now....
FAGIN: Yeah.
(examining the inside) Dodge.
I don't know, Dodge.
Well... not as heavy as they might be,
but very neat... and nicely made.
Ingenious workman, ain't he, Oliver?
OLIVER: Indeed, sir.
FAGIN: And, Charley, what have you got, my dear?
CHARLEY: Wipes.
FAGIN: Wipes?
They're very good ones. Very.
... You haven't marked them well.
The marks should be picked out with a needle.
And we'll... we'll teach Oliver how to do it.
Shall us, Oliver?
(Oliver bows)
BET: See, Dodger, you wanna learn from him.
He's got manners, he has. A proper
gentleman.
NANCY: We popped in because we were that cold inside.
OLIVER: Water...
MAGISTRATE: What's your name, you hardened scoundrel?
Officer, what's his name?
(Oliver faints)
GENTLEMAN: Of course.
POLICEMAN: If you could just take his head, sir.
Where to, sir?
GENTLEMAN: Pentonville.
POLICEMAN: Pentonville.
COACHMAN: Yes.
(Bill enters)
BILL: (to his dog) Bullseye!
Who pitched this here at me?
Who done it?
FAGIN: And I'm afraid, you see, Bill, that if the game
was up with us... it would come out rather worse
for you than it would for me, my dear.
INT. MORNING
BROWNLOW: How do you feel, my dear?
OLIVER: Very happy, sir.
And very grateful to you indeed, sir.
BROWNLOW: Good boy.
Have you given him any nourishment, Bedwin?
Any slops?
BEDWIN: Not slops, sir. Broth.
BROWNLOW: A couple of glasses of port wine... would
have done him a great deal more good.
Wouldn't they, Sam?
BROWNLOW: Oliver?
Oliver what? Oliver Waters?
OLIVER: No, sir. Twist. Oliver Twist.
BROWNLOW: Why did you tell the magistrate your name
was Waters?
OLIVER: Nancy.
OLIVER: Yes.
BILL: Well, then.
This is powder.
That here's a bullet.
And this is a little bit of an old hat...
for wadding.
Now it's loaded.
OLIVER: Yes, I can see it is, sir.
TOBY: Right.
Barkers for me, Barney.
BARNEY: They're loaded.
TOBY: Good.
The persuaders?
TOBY: Bill.
BILL: Help!
BOYS: Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
TOBY: Well, well.
How are you, Fagey?
FAGIN: (to the boys) Scarce. Scarce!
Where's Bill?
NANCY: He's... He's bleeding.
FAGIN: What happened?
FAGIN: Dodger!
Nancy, scarce!
NANCY: Bullseye.
BILL: Nothing.
FANG: Nothing?
BILL: Not till I'm better.
FAGIN: Then what?
BILL: Then I'll do for him.
BEDWIN: Yes?
BEDWIN: Midnight?
NANCY: And if I'm not there... then tell him to
come the next night and the next. I'll be
there. Tell him.
NANCY: No.
FAGIN: You may say that, Bill, you may say that.
BILL: Why did she take it in her head to go out
tonight?
FAGIN: Obstinacy. Women's obstinacy, I suppose,
my dear.
BILL: I thought I tamed her of that.
But she's as bad as ever.
I think she's got a touch of my fever in
her blood and it won't come out.
FAGIN: Like enough.
FAGIN:
NANCY: So I have.
BROWNLOW: Fagin.
NANCY: Find Fagin, you'll find the boy.
BROWNLOW: Where is he?
BROWNLOW: I promise.
Tomorrow I'll go to the police.
DODGER: Nancy.
BILL: What about Nancy?
FAGIN: He done a bit of work for me, Bill.
I had him dodge Nancy.
BILL: Bullseye.
Don't you hear me when I whistle?
You gone deaf or something?
Come here. Come on.
I ain't gonna harm you. Come on.
Come on, Bullseye.
Come here.
Stop it! I'm warning you.
Let go, I ain't playing with you!
Let it go, you stinking varmint!
Bullseye!
Bullseye. Bullseye.
Get back here. Get back here.
Damn it!
POLICEMAN: Look.
Sir, we found the dog.
DODGER: What?
TOBY: We must.
(to Barney) Go on. Go on!
BOY: Don't leave us in the dark.
BEDWIN: Oliver?
Oliver! Oliver!
Here he is, sir.
BROWNLOW: Come along, my boy.
Mr. Grimwig has something to say to you.
Do the honors, Mrs. Bedwin.
GRIMWIG: Now then, young man, I confess I misjudged
you. Truth to tell, I feared your
benefactor would make me eat my head.
But he's a good friend and has pardoned
me.
BROWNLOW: And one for Oliver.
GRIMWIG: So--
BROWNLOW: And you too, Mrs. Bedwin.
BEDWIN: I don't know as I should, sir.
BROWNLOW: You must.
GRIMWIG: So I'll take the liberty, if you'll
allow me, to salute you.
To Sam Waters.
BROWNLOW: Oliver Twist.
GRIMWIG: Oliver Twist. To Oliver Twist.
BROWNLOW: Yes.
JAILER: Easy.
FAGIN: Oliver!
Let... let me whisper to you.
You remember the box, Oliver?
With my pretty things for my old age,
Oliver? It's hid a little way up the
chimney in the top front room.
It's yours, Oliver. Yours, but we must
talk.
THE END