The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 227: what you’re looking at

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

“Do you know me?” said the man. As a general proposition, Todd did not like to say yes to anything, so he looked dubious, and remarked that he thought it might rain soon, but if he (the man) wanted a clean shave, he (Todd) would soon do for him. “But, really, Mr. Todd, don’t you know me?” “IT know nobody,” said Todd. The man chuckled with a hideous grimace, that seemed habitual to him, for he at times indulged in it, when, to all appearance, no subject whatever of hilarity was on the topic, and then he said— “T come from Fogg.” “Fogg’s, not Fogg?” The man did not at first seem to understand this nice distinction that Todd drew between coming from Fogg’s establishment and coming from Fogg himself; but after knitting his brows, and considering a little, he said— ’ “Oh—ah—I see. No, I don’t come from Fogg, confound him, he don’t use me well, so I thought I’d come to tell you ? The shop door opened, and a stout burly-looking man made his appearance. Todd turned upon him, with a face livid with passion, as he said— “Well, sir, what now?” “Eh?” said the stout burly man. “Ain’t this a barber’s shop?” “To be sure it is; and, once for all, do you want to be shaved, or do you not?” “Why, what else could I come in for?” “T don’t know; but you have been here more than once—more than twice—more than thrice, and yet you have never been shaved yet.” “Well, that is a good one.” “A good what?” “Mistake, for I have only just come to London to-day; but I’!l wait while you shave this gentleman. I am in no hurry.” “No, sir,” said Todd; “this gentleman is a private friend of mine, and don’t come to be shaved at all.” The stout burly-looking man seemed rather confused for a moment, and then he turned to the stranger, and said— “Are you really a private friend of Mr. Todd’s?” “Very,” said the other. “Then I scorn to interrupt any one in their confidential discourse, just because my beard happens to be a day old. No; I trust that time, and old English politeness, will ever prevent me from doing such a thing; so, Mr. Todd, I will look in upon some other occasion, if you please.” “No—no,” said Todd, “sit down: business is business. Pray sit down. You don’t know how disappointed I shall feel if I don’t polish you off, now that you are here, sir.” “Could not think of it,” said the other, in whom the reader has, no doubt, recognised one of Sir Richard Blunt’s officers. “Could not for a moment think of it. Good day.” Before Todd could utter another remonstrance, he was out of the shop, and when he got about twelve paces off, he met Crotchet, who said— “Well, what do yer bring it in now?” “T must cut it. Todd is beginning to recollect me, and to think there is something odd going on.” Mr. Crotchet gave a slight whistle, and then said— “Werry good; but did you leave a hindevidel in the shaving crib, to be done for.” “Yes; but he said he was a private friend of Todd’s.” “Good agin, that will do. He’s safe enough, I dare say, and if he isn’t, why he ought to be more petikler in a-dressing of his acquaintance. Do you know where the governor is?” “No. I have not seen him; but will you tell him, Crotchet, why I think it’s better for me to be scarce for a day or two?” “To be sure, old fellow. You can go on some other day.” “Surely—surely.” Q9OOO0GOOO CORniclooo S CO)