The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

was a little puzzled to know who this person could be, until a woman made her appearance from one of the rooms upon the ground floor, and cried— “There now, go out, do. We don’t want you any more; you have got your pocket money, so be off with you, and don’t let me see your face again till night.” “No, my dear,” said the well-dressed personage. “Certainly not. This is the barber.” “Good God, Blisset, do you think I am blind, that I can’t see the barber. Will you go? The captain is waiting for me to pour out his coffee, and attend to his other concerns, which nobody knows better than you, and yet you will be perpetually in the way.” “No, my dear, I—I only—” “Hoity toity, are we going to have a disturbance, Mr. B? Recollect, sir, that I dress you well and give you money, and expect you to make yourself agreeable while I attend to the gentlemen lodgers, so be off with you; I’m sure, of all the troublesome husbands for a woman to have, you are about the worst, for you have neither the spirit to act like a man, nor the sense to keep out of the way.” “Ha!” said Todd. Both the lodging-house keeper and his wife started at the odd sound. “What was that?” said the woman. “Only me, madam,” said Todd, “I laughed slightly at that blue-bottle walking on the ceiling, that’s all.” “What a laugh,” said Blisset, as he left the house; and then the lady of the mansion turning to Todd, said— “You are to attend to Mr. Mundel, poor man. You will find him in the front room on the second floor, poor man.” “Is he ill, madam?” “Oh, I don’t know, I rather think he’s grizzling about some of his money, that’s all, but it don’t matter one way or the other. They say he is as rich as a Jew, and I’Il take good care he pays enough here.” “Mrs. B—Mrs. B,” cried a voice from the parlour. “Yes, captain, I’m coming.—I’m coming, captain.” The lady bounced into the breakfast-parlour and closed the door, leaving Todd to find his way up stairs as he best could. After a hideous chuckle at the thought of Mr. Blisset’s singular position in society, he commenced ascending the stairs. He accomplished the first flight without meeting with any one, but upon the second he encountered a servant girl with a pail, and Todd gave her such a hideous glance, accompanied by such a frightful contortion of his visage, that down went the pail, and the girl flew up stairs again, and locked herself in one of the attics. Without waiting to ascertain what effect the descent of the pail might have upon the nerves of the captain and the landlady, Todd pursued his course to the room whither he had been directed, and tapped at the door. “Come in,” said a meek, tremulous voice. “Come in.” Todd opened the door, and stood in the presence of the man over whose long tried skill and habitual cunning he had obtained such a triumph in the affair of the pearls at Mundel Villa. John Mundel now, though, was far from looking like the John Mundel of the villa. He sat by the fire, wrapped up in a flannel dressing-gown, with a beard of portentous length. His cheeks had fallen in. His brow was corrugated by premature wrinkles, and the comers of his mouth were drawn down as though a look of mental distress had become quite a thing of habit with him now. “Who are you?” he growled out, as Todd cane into the room, and with a show of carefulness closed the door after him. “Who are you, eh?” “Come to shave you, sir, and dress your hair.” “Ah!” cried Mundel, as he gave a start. “Where have I heard that voice before? Why does it put me in mind of my loss? My eight thousand pounds! My money—my money. Am I to lose another eight thousand pounds? That will make sixteen thousand pounds. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh dear! Who are you? Speak, friend. Who are you?” “Only a barber, sir,” said Todd, “come to shave you, and dress your hair. Ain’t you well, sir? Shall I call again?” “No—no—no! My losses distracts me. Only the barber? Ah, yes to be sure—only the barber. I must go to court, and ask for the duke of something. Good God, yes! I will see all the dukes, until I find out my duke. He who had my eight thousand pounds, and has left me so poor and so wretched. Oh, dear! Oh, dear, my money—my hard-earned money. Oh, gracious, if I were to lose another eight thousand pounds, I should go mad—mad—mad!” “Shall I begin, sir?” said Todd. “Begin? Begin what? Oh, yes, my hair; and I must be shaved too, or they won’t let me in at all. I will have the pearls or my money. I will see all the dukes, and pounce upon my duke. Oh, yes, I will have the pearls or the money.” “Pearls, sir?” said Todd, as he began to arrange the shaving apparatus he had brought with him. “Did you say pearls?” “Bah! what do you know about pearls, who, I dare say, never saw one. Bah! You—a poor beggarly barber. But I will have them back, or my money. I will raise London, but I will find them, I will see the queen herself, and know what duke she gave the pearls to, and then will find him and have my money.” “Now, sir. A little this way.” “Oh, dear—oh, dear! What do you charge?” “Anything you please, sir. When I come to a gentleman, I always leave it to his generosity to pay me what he pleases.” “Ah! more expense. More expense. That means that I am to pay for the service done me, and something else besides for the sake of a compliment upon my liberality. But I ain’t liberal. I won’t be generous. Where’s my money, my pearls; and now to go to all sorts of CORniclooo S CO)