The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

“Do you think your friend Thornhill was a man likely to talk about the valuable pearls he had in his possession?” “Certainly not.” “T merely ask you, because they might have offered a great temptation; and if he has experienced any foul play at the hands of the barber, the idea of becoming possessed of such a valuable treasure might have been the inducement.” “T do not think it probable, but it has struck me that, if we obtain any information whatever of Thornhill, it will be in consequence of these very pearls. They are of great value, and not likely to be overlooked; and yet, unless a customer be found for them, they are of no value at all; and nobody buys jewels of that character but from the personal vanity of making, of course, some public display of them.” “That is true; and so, from hand to hand, we might trace those pearls until we come to the individual who must have had them from Thornhill himself, and who might be forced to account most strictly for the manner in which they came into his possession.” After some more desultory conversation upon the subject, it was agreed that Colonel Jeffery should take a bed there for the night at Lime Tree Lodge, and that, in the morning, they should both start for London, and, disguising themselves as respectable citizens, make some attempts, by talking about jewels and precious stones, to draw out the barber into a confession that he had something of the sort to dispose of; and, moreover, they fully intended to take away the dog, with the care of which Captain Rathbone charged himself. We may pass over the pleasant, social evening which the colonel passed with the amiable family of the Rathbones, skipping likewise a conversation of some strange and confused dreams which Jeffery had during the night concerning his friend Thornhill, we will presume that both the colonel and the captain have breakfasted, and that they have proceeded to London and are at the shop of a clothier in the neighbourhood of the Strand, in order to procure coats, wigs, and hats, that should disguise them for their visit to Sweeney Todd. Then, arm-in-arm, they walked towards Fleet Street, and soon arrived opposite the little shop within which there appears to be so much mystery. “The dog, you perceive, is not here,” said the colonel; “I had my suspicions, however, when I passed with Johanna Oakley that something was amiss with him, and I have no doubt but that the rascally barber has fairly compassed his destruction.” “Tf the barber be innocent,” said Captain Rathbone, “you must admit that it would be one of the most confoundedly annoying things in the world to have a dog continually at his door assuming such an aspect of accusation, and in that case I can scarcely wonder at his putting the creature out of the way.” “No, presuming upon his innocence, certainly; but we will say nothing about all that, and remember we must come in as perfect strangers, knowing nothing whatever of the affair of the dog, and presuming nothing about the disappearance of any one in this locality.” “Agreed, come on; if he should see us through the window, hanging about at all or hesitating, his suspicions will be at once awakened, and we shall do no good.” They both entered the shop and found Sweeney Todd wearing an extraordinary singular appearance, for there was a black patch over one of his eyes, which was kept in its place by a green riband that went round his head, so that he looked more fierce and diabolical than ever; and having shaved off a small whisker that he used to wear, his countenance, although to the full as hideous as ever, certainly had a different character of ugliness to that which had before characterised it, and attracted the attention of the colonel. That gentleman would hardly have known him again anywhere but in his own shop, and when we come to consider Sweeney Todd’s adventures of the preceding evening, we shall not feel surprised that he saw the necessity of endeavouring to make as much change in his appearance as possible for fear he should come across any of the parties who had chased him, and who, for all he knew to the contrary, might, quite unsuspectingly, drop in to be shaved in the course of the morning, perhaps to retail at that acknowledged mart for all sorts of gossip—a barber’s shop—some of the very incidents which he was so well qualified himself to relate. “Shaved and dressed, gentlemen?” said Sweeney Todd, as his customers made their appearance. “Shaved only,” said Captain Rathbone, who had agreed to be the principal spokesman, in case Sweeney Todd should have any reminiscence of the colonel’s voice, and so suspect him. “Pray be seated,” said Sweeney Todd to Colonel Jeffery. “I’ll soon polish off your friend, sir, and then I’ll begin upon you. Would you like to see the morning paper, sir? it’s at your service. I was just looking myself, sir, at a most mysterious circumstance, if it’s true, but you can’t believe, you know sir, all that is put in the newspapers.” “Thank you—thank you,” said the colonel. Captain Rathbone sat down to be shaved, for he had purposely omitted that operation at home, in order that it should not appear a mere excuse to get into Sweeney Todd’s shop. “Why, sir,” continued Sweeney Todd, “as I was saying, it is a most remarkable circumstance.” “Indeed!” “Yes, sir, an old gentleman of the name of Fidler had been to receive a sum of money at the west-end of the town, and has never been heard of since; that was only yesterday, sir, and there is a description of him in the papers of today. ‘A snuff-coloured coat, and velvet smalls’ * —black velvet, I should have said—‘silk stockings, and silver shoe-buckles, and a golden-headed cane, with W.D.F. upon it, meaning William Dumpledown Fidler’—a most mysterious affair, gentlemen.’” A sort of groan came from the corner of the shop, and, on the impulse of the moment, Colonel Jeffery sprang to his feet, exclaiming —“What’s that—what’s that?” “Oh, it’s only my apprentice, Tobias Ragg. He has got a pain in his stomach from eating too many of Lovett’s pork pies. Ain’t that it, Tobias, my bud?” “Yes, sir,” said Tobias, with another groan. CORniclooo S CO)