The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 318: what you’re looking at

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

Johanna took a kind leave of the fruiterer’s daughter, who had lavished upon her all those attentions which, in Johanna’s position, became so precious from one of her own sex; and then, assuming a careless manner, with her hat put on in a boyish slovenly sort of way, She boldly crossed the road to Sweeney Todd’s. He had been watching through a hole in the upper part of one of the shutters. In a moment all sorts of ugly suspicions took possession of his mind. What could Charley Green, his errand-boy from Oxford, who knew no one, and was unknown to all London, doing at a tradesman’s house in Fleet Street at such an hour in the morning? How came he to know the people of that house? How came he to dream of going there? Todd was boiling with anger and curiosity when he opened the door and admitted Johanna, a thing that he was unmindful enough to do before she knocked for admission, which alone would have been amply sufficient to point out to her that she had been watched from some peep-hole in the house. He stretched out his hand and dragged her in. He controlled his temper sufficiently to enable him to gratify his curiosity. He made quite certain that Charley Green would tell him some story of where he had been, which should not convict the fruiterer. By the light of a miserable candle that Todd had burning in the dark closed shop, he glared at Johanna. “Well—well,” he said. “A good night’s rest, Charley?” “Tolerable, sir!” “Humph! ha! And did you find a place to sleep at cheaply and decently, my good lad, eh?” “T was very fortunate indeed, sir.” “Oh, you were very fortunate indeed?” “Yes, sir. I am, through being country bred I suppose, fond of fruit, so when I left you last night, I bought an apple at a shop opposite.” “Oh, at Mr. ah—ah—” “T don’t know the name, sir,” said Johanna, “but I can run out and ascertain, I dare say.” Todd gave a low sort of growl. He did not know if he were being foiled by innocence or by art. With an impatient gesture, he added— “Never mind the apples, I wish to know where you slept, Charley, that I may judge if it was a proper place, there are so many wicked people in London.” “Are there, sir?” “Bah! Go on. Where did you sleep?” “Well, sir, as there was a kind-tempered-looking servant in the fruiterer’s shop, I thought she might be able to tell me of some place where I could lodge, and when she had heard my story: a “Story—story? What story?” “How destitute I was, sir, and how kind you had been to employ me without a character, and how happy and contented I was in your service, sir. So when she had heard all that, she said, ‘It is too late for you to go lodging-hunting to-night. There is an old bench in our kitchen, and if you like you may sleep on that.’” Todd gave a growl. “And so you slept there?” “Yes sir.” He paced the shop for some few moments in deep thought, knitting his brows and trying to make something out of what he had heard, contrary to what it seemed; but Johanna’s story was too straightforward and simple for him to find any flaw in it, and after a few moments he felt compelled to admit to himself that it must be the truth. Turning to her with something of the amount of amiability one might expect from a bear, he said— “Open the shop!” “Yes, sir, directly.” Johanna propped the door wide open, and then having, by the dim light of the miserable candle, found a screw which fastened a bar across the shutters, she speedily released it, and then went into the street. At that moment Crotchet came along, whistling in so thoroughly careless a manner, that even Johanna thought he had forgotten his instructions and was about to pass the shop. She had her hand upon the bar when he stopped, saying, in an off-handed manner— “Why little ’un, them ’ere shutters is too much for you, I’ll give you a helping hand. Lor’ bless you, don’t say anything about it. It ain’t no sort o’ trouble to me, my little chap. Here goes.” Mr. Crotchet began opening Todd’s shop with such a fury and a vengeance, that the clatter and the speed with which the operation was being accomplished, brought Todd out of the parlour to see what on earth Charley was about. When he saw Crotchet coming in with three shutters in his arms at once, he could scarcely believe his eyes, and he roared out— “What’s this? Who are you?” “Easy—easy,” said Crotchet. “Don’t get in the way, old gentleman. Easy. There now!” Crotchet managed to give Todd such a rap on the side of the head with the shutters, that a thousand lights danced in his eyes, and he writhed with pain. “Well, I never,” said Crotchet, “I hope I haven’t hurt you, old man? You see I was a-passing, and seed as these here shutters was rather a bit top-heavy for your little son here, and I thought I’d give him a helping hand. To be sure he didn’t want me to, but you see I CORniclooo S CO)