The String of Pearls; Or, The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance.
"Yes, Mrs. Ragg. There's profundity for you."
Did Martha Jones mean profanity?
"Ah," interposed Mrs. Ragg, "we live in a world."
"Yes, Mrs. Ragg, we does; but as you was a saying?"
"Eh?"
"As you was a saying about somebody being hung, if rights was rights,
you know."
"Oh, dear, really you must not ask me. Indeed you must not."
"Well, I won't; but here we are, in Pump Court."
Todd darted into a door-way, and watched them up the staircase of No. 6,
in that highly classic locality. He slunk into the door-way, and by
taking a perspective glance up the staircase, he saw them stop upon the
first floor. He saw that they turned to the right. He darted up a few
stairs, and just caught sight of a black door. Then there was a sharp
sound, as of some small latch closing suddenly, after which all was
still. Todd ascended the stairs.
"Curses on them!" he muttered. "What can they mean by looking in such a
manner at my shop? I thought the last time I saw that woman, Ragg, that
she was cognizant of something. If now she, in her babbling, would give
me any news of Tobias--Pho! he is--he must be dead."
By this time Todd had got to the top of the first flight of stairs, and
stood upon the landing, close to several open doors--that is to say,
outer black heavy-looking doors--and within them were smaller ones,
armed with knockers.
"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.
"I 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 murmer 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.
"It 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.
Juggus 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. Juggus 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. What--"
"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."
"You'll excuse me, Mrs. Jones, but the truth is, I aught 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--."
Mrs. Ragg began to run over with tears of ale.
"Bless me, and where does he live?"
"Who?"
"The colonel. The good, kind, colonel--colonel--a--a dear me, I forget
what you said his name was."
"Jeffery, and may his end be peace. He will get the reward of all his
good actions in another world than this, Martha. Ah, Martha, such men as
he can afford to smile at their latter ends.--No--no, I couldn't."
"Only half a glass; look at the--"
"No--no--"
"Cream on it."
"I must go, indeed. In course the colonel, since I have been his cook,
knows what cooking is, for though I say it, perhaps as should not, I am
a cook, and not a spiler of folks' victuals. Of course what's said, goes
no further. I know I can trust you, Martha."
"Oh dear, yes, in course. I'll just put on my shawl and walk a little
way with you, Mrs. Ragg. Dear me--dear me!"
"What is it, Martha?"
"Its a raining like cats and dogs, it is. Well, I never; what shall you
do, Mrs. Ragg? What shall you do?"
"Call a coach, I shall, Martha. The last words the colonel said to me
was, 'Mrs. Ragg, rather than there should be any delay in your return,'
says he, 'as Tobias may want you, call a coach, and I will pay for it.'"
Todd had only just time to dart down the staircase before the two ladies
made their appearance; and then hiding sometimes in doorways, and
sometimes behind columns and corners, he dodged them into Fleet-street.
A coach was duly called, and Mrs. Ragg by the assistance of Martha
Jones, was safely bestowed inside it. Todd heard distinctly the
colonel's address given to the coachman, who would have it twice over,
so that he should be sure he had it all right.
"That will do," said Todd.
He darted across the street, and made the best of his way to his shop
again. He listened at the door for a few moments before he entered, and
he thought he heard the sound of weeping. He listened more attentively,
and then he was sure. Some one was sobbing bitterly within the shop.
"It must be Charley," thought Todd.
He placed his ear quite close to the panel of the door, in the hope that
the boy would speak. Todd was quite an adept at listening, but this time
he was disappointed, for the sham Charley Green spoke not one word. Yet
the deep sobs continued. Todd was not in the best of tempers. He could
stand the delay no longer, and bouncing into the shop, he cried--
"What the devil is the meaning of all this? What is the meaning of it,
you young rascal? I suspect--"
"Yes, sir," said Johanna, looking Todd full in the face, "and so do I."
"You--you? suspect what?"
"That I shall have to have it out, for its aching distracts me. Did you
ever have the tooth-ache, sir?"
"The tooth-ache?"
"Yes, sir. It's--it's worse than the heart-ache, and that I have had."
"Ah!--humph! Any one been?"
"One gentleman, sir, to be shaved; he says he will call again."
"Very good--very good."
Todd took from his pocket the key of the back-parlour--that key without
which in his own possession he never left the shop; and then, after
casting upon Johanna a somewhat sinister and threatening look, he
muttered to himself--
"I suspect that boy. If he refuse to come into the parlour, I will cut
his throat in the shop; but if he come in I shall be better satisfied.
Charley? Come here."
"Yes, sir," said Johanna, and she walked boldly into the parlour.
"Shut the door."
She closed it.
"Humph," said Todd. "It is no matter. I will call you again when I want
you."
CHAPTER LXXXI.
JOHANNA IS ENCOURAGED.
Was Todd satisfied with Johanna's excuse about the toothache? Was he
satisfied of the good foible of the supposed Charley Green, by the
readiness with which she had come into the parlour? We shall see. If he
were not satisfied, he was staggered in his suspicions sufficiently to
delay--and delay just then was to Sweeney Todd--one of the most fatal
things that could be imagined. There are crumbs of consolation under all
circumstances. When Johanna was best sent out of the shop, upon the
occasion of the visit of Mrs. Lovett to Todd, she had scarcely got a
half dozen steps from the door of the barber's, when a man in passing
her, and without pausing a moment, said--
"Miss Oakley, be so good as to follow me."
Johanna at once obeyed the mandate. The man walked rapidly on until a
fruiterer's shop was gained, into which he at once walked.
"Mr. Oston," he said to a man behind the counter, "is your parlour
vacant?"
"Yes, Sir Richard, and quite at your service," said the fruiterer.
By this Johanna found that she had made no mistake, and that the person
she had followed was no other than Sir Richard Blunt, the magistrate,
who was interesting himself so much for her safety, as well as for the
discovery of what had befallen Mark Ingestrie. The fruiterer's parlour
was a prettily fitted up place, where a couple of lovers might in a very
romantic manner, if they chose, eat strawberries and cream, and quite
enjoy each other's blissful society, in whispered nothing the while. Sir
Richard handed Johanna a seat as he said--"Miss Oakley, I am very much
pleased, indeed, to have this opportunity of seeing you, and of saying a
few words to you."
"Ah, Sir, how much do I owe you."
"Nay, Miss Oakley, you owe me nothing. When once I happily become aware
of your situation, it becomes my duty as well as my inclination to
protect you in every way against what, I am sure you will forgive me,
for calling your rashness."
"Call it what you will, sir."
"Well, Miss Oakley, we will dismiss that part of the subject. Are you
going upon any errand, or have you a little time to spare."
"I have some time."
"Then it is a very proper thing that you should enjoy it in taking some
proper refreshment."
"I want nothing."
"Nay, but you shall have something whether you want it or not, before I
say any more to you about Todd and his affairs."
Johanna, whose mental excitement had prevented her completely from
feeling the amount of exhaustion, which otherwise must by that time have