The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

Now there was a slight creaking noise for about half a minute, and then the window of Sweeney Todd’s attic swung open. “Come on,” said Sir Richard, and he softly alighted in the apartment. Crotchet followed him, and then the magistrate carefully closed the window again, and left it in such a way, that a touch from within would open it. Then they were in profound darkness, and as it was no part of the policy of Sir Richard Blunt to run any unnecessary risks, he did not move one inch from the place upon which he stood until he had lighted a small hand lantern, which had a powerful reflector and a tin shade, which in a moment could be passed over the glass, so as to hide the light upon an emergency. “Now, Crotchet,” he said, “we shall see where we are.” “Reether,” said Crotchet. By holding the light some height up, they were able to command a good view of the attic. It was a miserable looking room: the walls were in a state of premature decay, and in several places lumps of mortar had fallen from the ceiling, making a litter of broken plaster upon the floor. It was entirely destitute of furniture, with the exception of an old stump bedstead, upon which there lay what looked like a quantity of old clothes. “Safe enough,” said Sir Richard. “Stop!” said Crotchet. “What’s the matter?” “There’s something odd on the floor here. Don’t you see as the dust has got into a crevice as is bigger nor all the other crevices, and goes right along this ways and then along that ways? Don’t you move, sir, I’ll be down upon it in a minute.” Mr. Crotchet laid himself down flat upon the floor, and then crept on until he came to that part of the flooring which had excited his suspicions. As soon as he pressed upon it with both his hands it gave way under them plainly, by the elevation of the other end of the three boards of which this trap was composed, proclaiming that it was a moveable portion of the floor, revolving or turning upon one of the joists as a centre. “Oh dear, how clever!” said Crotchet. “If Mr. Todd goes on a-cutting away his joists in this here way he’ll bring his blessed old house down with a run some day. How nice and handy, now, if any one was to step upon here—they’d go down into the room below, and perhaps break their blessed legs as they went.” “Escape the first for us!” said Sir Richard. “Oh, lor’, yes. Now this here Todd thinks, by putting this here man-trap here, as he has perwided again any accidents; but we ain’t them ’ere sort o’ birds as is catched by chaff, not we. Why, he must have spilted his blessed ceiling down below to make this here sort of a jigamaree concern.” “Tt’s not a bad contrivance though, Crotchet. Its own weight, you see, restores it to its place again, and so there’s no trouble with it.” “Oh dear, no. It’s a what I calls a self-acting catch-’em-who-can sort 0’ machine. Yes, Sir Richard, I never did think that ’ere Todd was welry green. He don’t know quite so much as we know; but yet he’s a rum ’un.” ® “No doubt of it. Do you think, Crotchet, there is anything else in this attic to beware of?” “Not likely; when he’d finished this here nice little piece of handywork, I dare say he said to himself—‘This will catch ’em,’ and so down stairs he toddled, and grinned like a monkey as has swallowed a whole nut by haccident, and gived himself a pain in the side in consekence. “That’|l catch ’em,’ says he.” Mr. Crotchet seemed so much amused at the picture he drew to himself of the supposed exultation of Todd, that for some moments he did nothing but laugh. The reader must not suppose, however, that in the circumstances of peril in which they were, he indulged in a regular “Ha! ha!”— quite the contrary. He had a mode of laughing under such circumstances that was entirely his own, and which, while it made no noise, shook his huge frame as though some commotion had taken sudden possession of it, and the most ridiculous part of the process was the alarming suddenness with which he would become preternaturally serious again. But Sir Richard Blunt knew his peculiarities, and paid no attention to them, unless they very much interfered with business. “We must not waste time. Come on, Crotchet.” Sir Richard walked to the door of the attic and tried it. It was as fast as though it had been part of the wall itself. “So—so,” he said. “Master Todd has taken some precautions against being surprised from the top of his house. He has nailed up this door as surely as any door was ever nailed up.” “Has he really, though?” “Yes. Quick, Crotchet. You have your tools about you, I suppose.” “Never fear,” said Crotchet. “I’m the indiwiddle as never forgets nothink, and if I don’t have the middle panel out o’ this door a’most as soon as look at it, it’s only ’cos it takes more time.” With this philosophical and indisputable remark, Mr. Crotchet stooped down before the door, and taking various exquisitely made tools from his pocket, he began to work at the door. He worked nearly noiselessly, and it looked like something little short of magic to see how the panel was forced out of the door without any of the hammering and flustering which a carpenter would have made of it. “All’s right,” he said. “If we can’t creep through here, we are bigger than I think we is.” “That will do. Hush!” They both listened attentively, for Sir Richard thought he heard a faint noise from the lower part of the house. As, however, five minutes of attentive listening passed away, and no repetition of it occurred, they thought it was only some one of those accidental sounds which will at times be heard in all houses whether occupied or not. Crotchet took the lead by creeping clearly enough through CORniclooo S CO)