The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 285: what you’re looking at

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

“To the right,” he muttered. “They went to the right—this must be the door.” He paused at one and listened. Not a sound met his ears, and his impatience began to get extreme. That these two women were going to have a conference about him he fully believed; and that he should be so near at hand, and yet not near enough to listen to it, was indeed galling. In a few moments it became insupportable. “T must and will know what they mean,” he said. “My threats may wring the truth from them; and if necessary, I should not scruple to silence them both. Dead men tell no tales, so goes the proverb, and it applies equally well to dead women.” Todd smiled. He was always fond of a conceit. “Yes,” he muttered, “every circumstance says to me now in audible language, ‘Go—go—go!’ and go I will, far away from England. I feel that I have not now many hours to spare. This fracas with Mrs. Lovett expedites my departure wonderfully, and to-morrow’s dawn shall not see me in London. But I will—I must ascertain what these women are about. Yes, and I will do so at all risks.” A glance showed him that the act of temerity was a safe one. The door opened upon a dingy sort of passage, in which were some mops, pails, and brooms. At its further extremity there was another door, but it was not quite shut, and from the room into which it opened, came the murmur of voices. There were other doors right and left, but Todd heeded only that one which conducted to the room inhabited. He crept along the passage at a snail’s pace; and then having achieved a station exactly outside the door, he placed one of his hands behind one of his elephantine-looking ears, and while his countenance looked like that of some malignant demon, he listened to what was going on within that apartment. Martha Jones was speaking. “Tt is good, indeed, Mrs. Ragg, as you may well say, and the glasses sticks to the table, when they is left over-night, showing, as Mr. Juggas says, as it’s a gluetenious quality this ale is.” “Sticks to the table?” said Mrs. Ragg. “Yes, mum, sticks. But as you was a-saying?” “Well, Martha, in course I know that what goes to you goes no farther.” “Not a step.” “And you won’t mention it to no one?” “Not a soul. Another glass?” “No, no.” “Only one. Nonsense! it don’t get into your head. It’s as harmless as milk, Mr. Juggas says.” “But ain’t you afeard, Martha, he may come in?” “Not he, Mrs. Ragg. Chambers won’t see him agin till night. Oh, he’s a shocking young man. Well, Mrs. Ragg, as you was a- saying?” “Well, it is good. As I was a-saying, Martha, I don’t feel uneasy now about Tobias, poor boy; for if ever a poor lad, as was a orphan in a half-and-half kind of way, seeing that I am his natural mother, and living, and thanking God for the same, and health, leastways, as far as it goes at this present moment of speakin’, I—I—Bless me, where was I?” “At Tobias.” “Oh, yes, I was at Tobias. As I was saying, if ever a poor body was well provided for, Tobias is. The colonel “The who?” “The colonel, Martha—the colonel as has took the care of him, and who, sooner or later, will have all the truth out of him about the Toddey Sween.” “Who? Who?” “Bless my poor head, I mean Sweeney Todd. Dear me, what am I thinking of?” “The barber?” “Yes, Martha; that horrid barber in Fleet Street; and between you and me, there isn’t in all the mortal world a more horrid wretch living than he is.” “I’m all of a shake.” “He—he - “Yes, yes. Wha 2 “He takes folks in and does for ’em.” “Kills ’em?” “Kills ’em.” “What—why—what—You don’t mean to say—why—? Take another glass Mrs. Ragg. You don’t mean to say that Tobias says, that Todd the barber is a murderer?—My dear Mrs. Ragg, take another glass, and tell us all about it; only look at the cream on the top of it.” 33 “You'll excuse me, Mrs. Jones, but the truth is, I ought not to say more than I have said; and if the colonel only knew I’d said as much, I can tell you, I think he’d be like a roaring lion. But Tobias is quite a gentleman now, you see, and sleeps in as fine a bed as a nobleman could have for love or money. The colonel is very good to him; and there never was such a kind good—good y Mrs. Ragg began to run over with tears of ale. “Bless me, and where does he live?” CORniclooo S CO)