The String of Pearls; Or, The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance.
uncommon wrong--_conwulsions_!"
Sir Richard Blunt took a paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
"From this plan," he said, "that I have procured of the vaults of St.
Dunstan's, it appears that the stone we have raised, and which was
numbered thirty, discloses a stone staircase communicating with two
passages, from which all the vaults can be reached. I propose searching
them; and now, gentlemen, and you, Mr. Beadle, listen to me."
They all three looked at him with surprise as he took another letter
from his pocket.
"Here," he said, "are a few words from the Secretary of State. Pray read
them, Mr. Vickley."
The overseer read as follows--
"The Secretary of State presents his compliments to Sir Richard Blunt,
and begs to say that as regards the affair at St. Dunstan's, Sir Richard
is to consider himself armed with any extraordinary powers he may
consider necessary."
"Now, gentlemen," added Sir Richard Blunt, "if you will descend with me
into the vaults, all I require of you is the most profound secrecy with
regard to what you may see there. Do you fully understand?"
"Yes," stammered Mr. Vickley, "but I rather think I--I would as soon not
go."
"Then, sir, be silent regarding the going of others. Will you go, sir?"
to the churchwarden.
"Why yes, I--I think I ought."
"I shall be obliged to go. I may feel the want of a witness. We will
take you with us, Mr. Beadle, of course."
"Me--me? Conwulsions!"
"Yes--yes. You go, you know, _ex officio_."
"Ex, the deuce, I don't want to go. Oh conwulsions! conwulsions!"
"We cannot dispense with your services," said the churchwarden. "If you
refuse to go, it will be my duty to lay your conduct before the vestry."
"Oh--oh--oh!"
"Get a torch," said Sir Richard Blunt, "and I will lower it down the
opening in the floor. If the air is not so bad as to extinguish the
light, it will not be too bad for us to breathe for a short space of
time."
Most reluctantly, and with terrible misgivings of what might be the
result of the frightful adventure into which he was about to be dragged,
the beadle fetched a link from the vestry. It was lighted, and Sir
Richard Blunt tying a string to it, let it down into the passage beneath
the church. The light was not extinguished, but it burnt feebly and with
but a wan and sickly lustre.
"It will do," said Sir Richard. "We can live in that place, although a
protracted stay might be fatal. Follow me; I will go first, and I hope
we shall not have our trouble only for our pains."
CHAPTER L.
THE DESCENT TO THE VAULTS.
Sir Richard commenced the descent.
"Come on," he said. "Come on."
He got down about half a dozen steps, but finding that no one followed
him he paused, and called out--
"Remember that time is precious. Come on!"
"Why don't you go?" said the churchwarden to the beadle.
"What! Me go afore a blessed churchwarden? Conwulsions--no! I thinks and
I hopes as I knows my place better."
"Well, but upon this occasion, if I don't mind it--"
"No--no, I could not. Conwulsions--no!"
"Ah!" said Sir Richard Blunt. "I see how it is; I shall have to do all
this business alone, and a pretty report I shall have to make to the
Secretary of State about the proceedings of the authorities of St.
Dunstan's."
The churchwarden groaned.
"I'm a coming, Sir Richard--I'm a coming. Oh dear, I tell you what it
is, Mr. Beadle, if you don't follow me, and close too, I'll have you
dismissed as sure as eggs is eggs."
"Conwulsions! conwulsions! I'm a coming."
The churchwarden descended the stairs, and the beadle followed him.
Down--down they went, guided by the dim light of the torch carried by
Sir Richard, who had not waited for them after the last words he had
spoken.
"Can you fetch your blessed breath, sir?" said the beadle.
"Hardly," said the churchwarden, gasping. "It is a dreadful place."
"Oh, yes--yes."
"Stop--Stop. Sir Richard--Sir Richard!"
There was no reply. The light from the torch grew more and more
indistinct as Sir Richard Blunt increased his distance from them, and at
length they were in profound darkness.
"I can't stand this," cried the churchwarden; and he faced about to
ascend to the church again. In his effort to do so quickly, he stretched
out his hand, and seized the beadle by the ancle, and as that personage
was not quite so firm upon his legs as might be desired, the effort of
this sudden assault was to upset him, and he rolled over upon the
churchwarden, with a force that brought them both sprawling to the
bottom of the little staircase together. Luckily they had not far to
fall, for they had not been more than six or eight steps from the foot
of the little flight. Terror and consternation for a few moments
deprived each of them of the power of speech. The beadle, however, was
the first to recover, and he in a stentorian voice called--
"Murder! Murder!"
Then the churchwarden joined in the cries, and they buffeted each other
in vain efforts to rise, each impeding the other to a degree that
rendered it a matter of impossibility for either of them to get to their
feet. Mr. Vickley, who was waiting in the church above, with no small
degree of anxiety, the report from below, heard these sounds of
contention and calls for help with mingled horror. He at once made a
rush to the door of the church, and, no doubt, would have endangered the
success of all Sir Richard Blunt's plans, if he had not been caught in
the arms of a tall stout man upon the very threshold of the church door.
"Help! murder! Who are you?"
"Crotchet they calls me, and Crotchet's my name. London my birth place,
is yourn the same? What's the row?"
"Call a constable. There's blue murder going on in the vaults below."
"The devil there is. Just you get in there, will you, and don't you stir
for your life, old fellow."
So saying, Mr. Crotchet, who knew the importance of secrecy in the whole
transaction, and who had been purposely awaiting for Sir Richard Blunt,
thrust Vickley into a pew, and slammed the door of it shut. Down fell
the overseer to the floor, paralysed with terror; and then Mr. Crotchet
at once proceeded to the opening in the floor of the church, and
descended without a moment's hesitation.
"Hilloa!" he cried, as he alighted at the bottom of the stairs upon the
churchwarden's back. "Hilloa, Sir Richard, where are you?"
"Here," said a voice, and with the torch nearly extinguished, Sir
Richard Blunt made his appearance from the passage. "Who is there?"
"Crotchet, it is."
"Indeed. Why, what brought you here?"
"What a row."
"Why--why, what's all this? You are standing upon somebody. Why bless my
heart it's--"
Out went the torch.
"Fire!--help!--murder!" shouted the beadle, "I'm being suffocated. Oh,
conwulsions! Here's a death for a beadle. Murder! robbery.
Fire--oh--oh--oh."
The churchwarden groaned awfully.
"Ascend, and get a light," said Sir Richard. "Quick, Crotchet, quick!
God only knows what is the matter with all these people."
Both Crotchet and Sir Richard Blunt scrambled over the bodies of the
churchwarden and the beadle, and soon reached the church. The
churchwarden made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of the
beadle, he ascended likewise, and rolled into a pew, upon the floor of
which he sat, looking a little deranged.
"If you don't come up," said Sir Richard Blunt, directing his voice down
the staircase, "we will replace the stone, and you may bid adieu to the
world."
"Conwulsions!" roared the beadle. "Oh, don't--conwulsions!"
Up he tumbled, with the most marvellous celerity, and rolled into the
church, never stopping until he was brought up by the steps in front of
the communion-table, and there he lay, panting and glaring around him,
having left his cocked hat in the regions below. Sir Richard Blunt
looked ghastly pale, which Crotchet observing, induced him to take a
small flask from his pocket, filled with choice brandy, which he handed
to his chief.
"Thank you," said Sir Richard.
The magistrate took a draught, and then he handed it to the
churchwarden, as he said--
"I'll fill it again."
"All's right."
The churchwarden took a pull at the brandy, and then the beadle was
allowed to finish it. They were both wonderfully recovered.
"Oh, Sir Richard," said the churchwarden, "what have you seen?"
"Nothing particular."
"Indeed!"
"No. You can have the stone replaced as soon as you like, over the
opening to the vaults."
"And you have seen nothing?" said the beadle.
"Nothing to speak of. If you have any doubts or any curiosity, you can
easily satisfy yourself. There's the opening. Pray descend. You see I
have escaped, so it cannot be very dangerous to do so. I will not myself
go again, but I will wait for either of you, if you please. Now,
gentlemen, go, and you will be able to make your own discoveries."
"Me?" cried the beadle. "Me? Oh, conwulsions! I thinks I sees me."
"Not I," said the churchwarden. "Cover it up--cover it up. I don't want
to go down. I would not do so for a thousand pounds."
A covert smile was upon the lips of Sir Richard Blunt as he heard this,
and he added--
"Very well; I have no objection, of course, to its being at once covered
up; and I think the least that is said about it, will be the better."
"No doubt of that," said the churchwarden.
"Conwulsions! yes," said the beadle. "If I was only quite sure as all my
ribs was whole, I shouldn't mind; but somebody stood a-top of me for a
good quarter of an hour, I'm sure."
Some of the workmen now began to arrive, and Sir Richard Blunt pointed
to them, as he said to the churchwarden--
"Then the stone can be replaced without any difficulty, now; and, sir,
let me again caution you to say nothing about what has passed here
to-day."
"Not a word--not a word. If you fancy somebody stood upon your ribs, Mr.
Beadle, I am quite sure somebody did upon mine."
The workmen were now directed to replace the stone in its former
position; and when that was completely done, and some mortar pressed
into the crevices, Sir Richard Blunt gave a signal to Crotchet to follow
him, and they both left the church together.
"Now, Crotchet, understand me."
"I'll try," said Crotchet.
"No one, for the future, is to be shaved in Sweeney Todd's shop alone."
"Alone?"
"Yes. You will associate with King, Morgan, and Godfrey; I will stand
all necessary expenses, and one or the other of you will always follow
whoever goes into the shop, and there wait until he comes out again.
Make what excuses you like. Manage it how you will; but only remember,
Todd is never again to have a customer all to himself."
"Humph!"
"Why do you say humph?"
"Oh, nothing partickler; only hadn't we better grab him at once?"
"No; he has an accomplice or accomplices, and their discovery is most
important. I don't like to do things by halves, Crotchet; and so long as
I know that no mischief will result from a little delay, and it will
not, if you obey my instructions, I think it better to wait."
"Very good."
"Go at once, then, and get your brother officers, and remember that
nothing is to withdraw your and their attention from this piece of
business."
"All's right. You know, Sir Richard, you have only to say what's to be
done, and it's as good as done. Todd may shave now as many people as he
likes, but I don't think he'll polish 'em off in his old way quite so
easy."
"That's right. Good day."
"When shall we see you, Sir Richard?" "About sunset."
By the time this little conversation was over, Sir Richard Blunt and
Crotchet had got through Temple Bar, and then they parted, Crotchet
taking his way back to Fleet Street, and Sir Richard Blunt walking