The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

caught whoever it was, and said in a whisper— “Any resistance will cost you your life.” “Crotchet it is,” said the new-comer. “Ah, how glad I am it is you!” “Reether. Hush. The old ’un is below. Ain’t I shook a bit. It’s a precious good thing as my bones is in the blessed habit o’ holding on, one of ’em to the rest and all the rest to one, or else I should have tumbled to bits.” “Hush! hush!” “Oh, he’s a good way off. That ’ere cupboard has got a descending floor with ropes and pulleys, so down I went and was rolled out into a room below and up went the bit of flooring again. I was very nearly startled a little.” “Nearly!” “Reether, but here I is. I got out and crept up stairs as soon as I could, ’cos, says I, the governor will wonder what the deuce has become of me.” “T did, indeed.” “Just as I thought. Sir Richard, just listen to me! I’ve got a fancy for Todd.” “A fancy for Todd?” “Yes, and I want to stay here a few hours—yes, go and let them as is outside know all’s right, and leave me here, I think somehow I shall like to be in this crib® alone with Todd for an hour or two. You have got other business to see to, you know, so just leave me here; and mind yer, if I don’t get there by six in the morning, just consider as he’s got the better of me.” “No, Crotchet, I cannot.” “Can’t what?” “Consent to leave you here alone.” “Bother! what’s the row, and where’s the danger, I should like to know? Who’s Todd? Who am I? Gammon!” Sir Richard shook his head, although Crotchet could not very well see him shake it, and after a pause he added— “T don’t suppose exactly that there is much danger, Crotchet, but, at all events, I don’t like it said that I brought you into this place and then left you here.” “Bother!” “You go and leave me.” “A likely joke that. No, I tell yer what it is, Sir Richard. You knows me and I knows you, so what does it matter what other folks say? Business is business I hope, and don’t you believe that I’m going to be such a flat® as to throw away my life upon such a fellow as Todd. I think I can do some good by staying here; if I can’t I'll come away, but I don’t think, in either case, that Todd will see me. If he does I shall, perhaps, be forced to nab him, and that, after all, is the worst that can come of it.” “Well, Crotchet, you shall have your own way.” “Good.” “T will return to the attic as soon as I conveniently can, and, let what will happen to you, remember that you are not deserted.” “T knows it.” “Good-bye. Take care of yourself, old friend.” “T means it.” “T should be indeed afflicted if anything were to happen to you.” “Gammon.” Sir Richard left him his own pistols, in addition to the pair which he, Crotchet, always had about him, so that he was certainly well- armed, let what would happen to him in that house of Sweeney Todd’s, which had now become something more than a mere object of suspicion to the police. Well, they knew Todd’s guilt—it was the mode in which he was guilty only that still remained a mystery. The moment Sir Richard Blunt reached the attic again, he held his arm out at full length from the window, and waved to and fro the little lantern as a signal to the officers in the street that he was safe. This done, he would not return to the room he had hired of the bootmaker, but he resolved to wait about ten minutes longer in case anything should happen in the house below that might sound alarming. After that period of time, he resolved upon leaving for an hour or two, but he, of course, would not do so without apprising his officers of Crotchet’s situation. During the time that had been passed by Crotchet and Sir Richard Blunt in Sweeney Todd’s house, the shoemaker and his wife had had an adventure which created in their minds an abundance of surprise. It will be recollected that the shoemaker’s wife had decided upon what was to be done regarding the new lodger—namely, that under the pretence that a Mr. Jones was a more satisfactory lodger, he was to be asked to be so good as to quit the attic he had so strangely taken. The arrival of Mr. Crotchet with so different a story from that told by Sir Richard Blunt certainly had the effect of engendering many suspicions in the minds of Sir Richard’s new landlord and landlady. “Well, my dear,” said the shoemaker, “if you are willing to come up stairs, I will say what you wish to this man, particularly as his pretended friend don’t seem to be coming down stairs again.” “Very well, my dear; I’ll take the kitchen poker and follow you, and while I am behind you, if I think he is a pleasant man, you know, and we had better let him stay, I will give you a slight poke.” CORniclooo S CO)