The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

“Now, my dear,” he said, “St. Dunstan’s is just going to strike the hour, and you will see the clubs hit the bells if you look, and I shall expect a kiss when it’s all over.” “You are impertinent,” said Johanna. “Come, that’s a good joke—why, you little whipper-snapper, I suppose you came out to take care of your sister. Here’s a penny to go and buy yourself a cold pie at Mrs. Lovett’s. I’ll see to your sister while you are gone. Oh, you need not look so wild about it. Did you never hear of a gent talking to a pretty gal in the street?” “Often,” said Johanna, “but I never heard of a gentleman doing so.” “Upon my word, you are as sharp as a needle, so I’|l just pull your ears to teach you better manners, you young rascal—come— come, it’s no use your kicking.” “Help—help!” cried Arabella. They were now just opposite the principal entrance to the Temple, and as Arabella cried “help,” who should emerge from under the gateway but Ben the Beef Eater. The fact is, that he was on his way to the Tower just previous to the meeting with Colonel Jeffery and Tobias. Arabella, who had twice or thrice seen him at the Oakley’s, knew him at once. “Oh, sir,” she cried, “I am Johanna’s friend, Miss Wilmot, and this—this gent won’t leave me and my cousin here alone.” The gent made an effort to escape, but Ben caught him by the hinder part of his apparel, and held him tight. “Ts this him?” “Yes—yes.” “Oh dear no—oh dear no, my good sir. It’s that fellow there, with the white hat. There he goes, up Chancery Lane. My dear sir, you are quite mistaken; I wanted to protect the young lady, and as for the lad, bless his heart, I—oh dear, it wasn’t me.” Still holding the gent by the first grasp he had taken of him, Ben suddenly crossed the road to where a parish pump stood, at the corner of Bell Yard, and holding him under the spout with one hand, he worked the handle with the other, despite the shrieks and groans of his victim, who in a few moments was rendered so limp and wet, that when Ben let him go, he fell into the sink below the pump, and there lay, until some small boys began pelting him. During the confusion and laughter of the bystanders, Arabella and Johanna rapidly retreated towards the City again, for they thought Ben might insist upon escorting them, and that, in such a case, it was possible enough the disguise of Johanna, good as it was, might not suffice to save her from the knowledge of one so well acquainted with her. “Let us cross, Arabella,” she said. “Let us cross, if it be but for one moment, to hear what the subject of the conversation between Todd and that man is.” “Tf you wish it, Johanna.” “IT do, I do.” They crossed, and once again passed the shop of Todd, when they heard the man say— “Well, if he has gone he has gone, but I think it is the strangest thing I ever heard of.” “So do I,” said Todd. Without lingering, and so perhaps exciting Todd’s attention and suspicion, they could hear no more, but Johanna had heard enough to give the spur to imagination, and when they had again crossed Fleet Street, and were making their way rapidly up Ludgate hill, she whispered to Arabella “Another! another!” “Another what, Johanna? You terrify me by that tone. Oh, be calm. Be calm, I pray you. Some one will observe your agitation.” “Another victim,” continued Johanna. “Another victim—another victim. Did you not hear what the man said? Was it not suggestive of another murder? Oh, Heaven preserve my reason, for each day, each hour, brings to me such accumulating proof of horrors, that I fear I shall go mad.” “Hush! hush! Johanna—Johanna!” 33 “My poor, poor Mar “Remember that you are in the street, Johanna, and for my sake, I pray you to be calm. Those tears and that flushed cheek will betray you. Oh, why did I ever advise you to come upon such an enterprise as this? It is my fault, all my fault.” The terror and the self-accusation of Arabella Wilmot did more to bring Johanna to a reasonable state than anything else, and she made an effort to overcome her feelings, saying— “Forgive me—forgive me, my dear friend—I, only I am to blame. But at the moment I was overcome by the thought that, in the heart of London, such a system of cold-blooded murder z She was unable to proceed, and Arabella, holding her arm tightly within her own, said—: “Do not attempt to say another word until we get home. There, in my chamber, you can give free vent to your feelings, but let the danger, as well as the impropriety of doing so in the open street, be present to your mind. Say no more now, I implore you; say no more.” This was prudent advice, and Johanna had sufficient command of herself to take it, for she uttered not one other word until they were both almost breathless with the haste they had made to Arabella’s chamber. Then, being no longer under the restraint of locality or circumstances, the tears of Johanna burst forth, and she wept abundantly. Arabella’s romantic reading did sometimes, as it would appear, stand her in good stead, and upon this occasion she did not attempt to stem the torrent of grief that was making its way from the CORniclooo S CO)