The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 120: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR JOHANNA ALONE. - THE SECRET. - MR TODD’S SUSPICIONS. - THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER For some time after Todd had left the shop, Johanna could scarcely believe that she was sufficiently alone to dare to look about her; but as minute after minute passed away, and no sound indicative of his speedy return fell upon her ears, she gathered more courage. “Yes,” she said, “I am at last alone, in the place where my suspicions have always pointed as the death place of poor Mark. O Heavens, grant that it may not be so, and that, in unravelling the evident mystery of this man’s life, I may hail you living, my dear Mark, and not have to mourn you dead! And yet, how can I, even for a moment, delude myself with such false hopes? No, no, he has fallen a victim to this ruthless man.” For a few minutes, as Johanna gave way to this violent burst of grief, she wrung her hands and wept; but then, as a thought of the danger she would be in should Todd return and see signs of emotion crossed her mind, she controlled her tears, and managed to bear the outward semblance of composure. She then began to look about her in the same way that poor Tobias had done; but she could find nothing of an explanatory character, although her suspicions made almost everything into grounds of suspicion. She looked into the cupboard, and there she saw several costly sticks and some umbrellas, and then she narrowly examined all the walls, but could see nothing indicative of another opening, save the door, visible and apparent. As she moved backwards, she came against the shaving chair, which she found was a fixture, as, upon examination, she saw that the legs of it were firmly secured to the floor. What there could be suspicious in such a circumstance she hardly knew, and yet it did strike her as such. “Tf I had but time,” she thought, “I would make an attempt to go into that parlour; but I dare not yet. No, no, I must be more sure of the continued absence of Todd, before I dare make any such attempt.” As she uttered these words, someone opened the door cautiously, and, peeping in, said, “Is Mr. Todd at home?” “No,” replied Johanna. “Oh, very good. Then you are to take this letter, if you please, and read it. You will find, I dare say, whom it’s from, when you open it. Keep it to yourself though, and if Mr. Todd should come in, hide it, mind, whatever you do.” Before Johanna could make any reply, the man disappeared, and great was her astonishment to read upon the outside of the letter that had been put into her hands, her own proper name. With trembling fingers she opened it, and read as follows: From Sir Richard Blunt, magistrate, to Miss Oakley. Miss Johanna Oakley, you have with great chivalry of spirit embarked in a very dangerous enterprise—an enterprise which, considering your youth and your sex, should have been left to others; and it is well that others are in a position to watch over you and ensure your safety. Your young friend, Arabella Wilmot, after giving so much romantic advice, and finding that you followed it, became herself alarmed at its possible consequences, and very prudently informed one who brought the intelligence to me, so that you are now well looked after; and should any danger present itself to you, you have but to seize any article that comes within your reach and throw it through a pane of glass in the shop window, when assistance will immediately come to you. I tell you this in order that you should feel quite at ease. As, however, you have placed yourself in your present position in Todd’s shop, it is more than likely you will be able to do good service in aiding to unmask that villain. You will, therefore, be good enough, towards the dusk of the evening, to hold yourself in readiness to do anything required of you by anyone who shall pronounce to you the password of “St. Dunstan”. From your Friend (mentioned above) Johanna read this letter, certainly, with most unmitigated surprise, and yet there was a glow of satisfaction in her mind as she perused it, and the difference in her feelings, now that she was assured of protection, was certainly something wonderful and striking. To think that she had but to seize any one of the numerous stray articles that lay about and fling it through the window, in order to get assistance, was a most consolatory idea, and she felt nerved for almost any adventure. She had just hidden the letter, when Sweeney Todd made his appearance. “Anybody been?” he asked. “Yes, one man, but he would not wait.” “Ah, wanted to be shaved, I suppose; but no matter—no matter; and I hope you have been quiet, and not been attempting to indulge your curiosity in any way, since I have been gone. Hush! there’s somebody coming. Why, it’s old Mr. Wrankley, the tobacconist, I declare. Good-day to you, sir—shaved, I suppose; I’m glad you have come, sir, for I have been out till this moment. Hot water, Charley, directly, and hand me that razor.” Johanna, in handing Todd the razor, knocked the edge of it against the chair, and it being uncommonly sharp, cut a great slice of the wood off one of the arms of it. “What shameful carelessness,” said Todd; “I have half a mind to lay the strop over your back, sir; here, you have spoilt a capital razor—not a bit of edge left upon it.” “Oh, excuse him, Mr. Todd—excuse him,” said the old gentleman; “he’s only a little lad, after all. Let me intercede for him.” CORniclooo S CO)