Chapter 7
The secret of the locket
They reached the bridge at dawn. Mr. Brownlow was waiting, just as Nancy had promised. “Run!” she cried to Oliver. Oliver dashed forward. He’d almost reached Mr. Brownlow’s outstretched arms when Nancy’s frightened voice made him turn around. “W- Why did you follow me, Bill?” Nancy stuttered. “I told no tales – I’d never grass on you.” “You took the boy away,” Bill bellowed. “You betrayed me, Nancy. I can’t ever trust you again.” Then Oliver heard Nancy scream. “No! Please, Bill, No!” BANG! A pistol shot exploded and Nancy slumped lifeless to the ground. Bill swore and closed his eyes. “I had to kill her,” he muttered. Oliver was frozen to the spot with terror. “I’m here, Oliver,” said Mr. Brownlow, reassuringly. “Come to me. Don’t look.” By now, a crowd had appeared, drawn by the sound of the pistol shot. Bill fled from the bridge, desperate to escape. The crowd tore after him. In a panic, Bill climbed the drainpipe of a nearby house and scaled the roof. He grabbed a rope that was dangling from its chimney, intending to swing over to the roof of the house opposite. Quickly, he made a loop and slipped it over his head. But before he could bring it down his body and under his arms, a policeman sounded his whistle below. “Stop him!” cried a woman. “He’s getting away.” Bill lost his balance and tumbled off the roof, the rope tightening around his neck. In seconds, he was dead, his body swaying in mid-air.
Chapter 7
The secret of the locket
They reached the bridge at dawn. Mr. Brownlow was waiting, just as Nancy had promised. “Run!” she cried to Oliver. Oliver dashed forward. He’d almost reached Mr. Brownlow’s outstretched arms when Nancy’s frightened voice made him turn around. “W- Why did you follow me, Bill?” Nancy stuttered. “I told no tales – I’d never grass on you.” “You took the boy away,” Bill bellowed. “You betrayed me, Nancy. I can’t ever trust you again.” Then Oliver heard Nancy scream. “No! Please, Bill, No!” BANG! A pistol shot exploded and Nancy slumped lifeless to the ground. Bill swore and closed his eyes. “I had to kill her,” he muttered. Oliver was frozen to the spot with terror. “I’m here, Oliver,” said Mr. Brownlow, reassuringly. “Come to me. Don’t look.” By now, a crowd had appeared, drawn by the sound of the pistol shot. Bill fled from the bridge, desperate to escape. The crowd tore after him. In a panic, Bill climbed the drainpipe of a nearby house and scaled the roof. He grabbed a rope that was dangling from its chimney, intending to swing over to the roof of the house opposite. Quickly, he made a loop and slipped it over his head. But before he could bring it down his body and under his arms, a policeman sounded his whistle below. “Stop him!” cried a woman. “He’s getting away.” Bill lost his balance and tumbled off the roof, the rope tightening around his neck. In seconds, he was dead, his body swaying in mid-air.
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