The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 229: what you’re looking at

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

“Ha! ha! By the bye—Ha! ha!” “Well, sir?” said Todd, who did not in the smallest degree join in the odd laugh of Peter. “Well, sir, I was merely going to say. Have you, by any chance, heard anything more of him?” Todd walked close to Peter, and placed his two brawny hands upon his shoulders, as he slowly repeated— “Have I by any chance heard anything more of him? What do you mean? Speak out, or by all that’s powerful, this is the last moment of your existence. Speak out, I say.” “Murder!” “Fool! Be more explicit, and you are safe. Be open and candid with me, and not a hair of your head shall suffer injury,, What do you mean by asking me if I have heard anything more of him?” “Don’t throttle me.” “Speak.” “J—I can’t while you hold me so tight. I—I—can—hardly—breathe.” Todd took his hands off him, and crossing his arms over his breast, he said in tones of most unnatural calmness— “Now speak.” “Well, Mr. Todd—I—only—” “You only what?” “Asked you naturally enough, if you had heard anything of the boy Tobias Ragg, you know, since he ran away from Fogg’s. That’s all.” “Since he what?” “Ran away from Fogg’s one night.” “Then he—he is not dead? The villain Fogg sent word to me that he was dead.” “Did he though? Well I never. That was so like Fogg. Only to think now. Lord bless you, Mr. Todd, he made his escape and ran away, and we never heard anything more of him from that time to this. The idea now of Fogg telling you he was dead. Well, I did wonder at your taking the thing so easy, and never coming down to enquire about it.” “Not dead? Not dead?” “Not as I know on.” “Curses!” “Ah! that will do you good, Mr. Todd. Whenever I am put out, I set to swearing like a good one, and that’s the way I come round again. Don’t mind me. You swear as long as you like. It was a shame for Fogg not to tell you he had bolted, but I suppose he thought he’d take his chance.” “The villain!” “Worser! worser! nor a willain!” said Peter. “Who knows now what mischief may be done, all through that boy. Why, he may be now being gammoned by the police and a parson to tell all he knows. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” 33 ! Todd sunk upon a chair—not the shaving one—and resting his hand upon his head, he uttered a sepulchral groan. Peter shook himself. “You don’t seem well, Mr. Todd. I didn’t think you was the sort of man to be down on your blessed luck in this sort of way. Cheer up. ‘What’s the use of grieving?’ as the old song says.” Todd groaned again. “And if so be,” continued Peter, “as the kid did run away, my opinion is as he’d seen enough and felt enough, while he was at Fogg’s, to make him as mad as a March hare.” There was hope in that suggestion, and Todd looked up. “You really think, then, Mr. Peter, that—that his intellects—” “His what?” “His mind, I mean, has not withstood the shock of what he went through while he was in Fogg’s establishment?” “How could it? Once or twice things very nigh infected me, and how should he stand up agin ’em? But arter all, Mr. Fogg, what was it all about? That’s what used to bother me. Was there anything in what he said, or wasn’t there?” “My good fellow,” said Todd, “I have only one question to ask you—” “Fire away.” “And that is, if you would prefer to have a sum of money down, and not trouble me any more?” “Down!” “Yes, down.” “On the nail? Well, it’s temptatious, I own. Let me see. Thus Fogg’s reglar annuity, as a fellow may call it, and a good round sum down from you, Mr. T. I think you said a good round sum down on the nail, didn’t you?” “Yes—yes. Any sum in reason.” “Done, then. [ll do it. Honour bright and shining. Mr. T., When I says a thing, it’s said, and no mistake, and if I takes something CORniclooo S CO)