The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

“Name ’em—name ’em. Do you want me to bring you the king’s eyetooth, or her majesty’s wig and snuff-box—only say the word.” “One is, that I will leave England. I have a private reason for so doing.” “Damme, so have I. That is a-hem! If you have a reason, that is a reason to me, you know.” “Exactly. In some other capital of Europe we may spend our money and enjoy all the delights of existence. Do you speak French?” “Ah-hem! Oh, of course. I never tried particularly, but as Lord North said to the Duke of Bridgewater, ‘Bounce is the man if you want anything done of an out of-the-way character.’” “Very well, then. My next condition is, that you shave off your moustache.” “What?” “Shave off your moustache; I have the greatest possible aversion to moustache, therefore I make that a positive condition without which I shall say no more to you.” “My charmer, do you think I hesitate? If you were to say to me, ‘Bounce, off with your head,’ in a moment it would roll at your feet.” “Go, then, to Mr. Todd’s, the barber, in Fleet Street, and have them taken off at once, and then come back to me, for I declare I won’t speak another word to you while you have them on.” “But, dear creature—” Mrs. Lovett shook her head. “Pon honour!” She shook her head again. “T’ll go at once then, ’pon soul, and have ’em taken off. I’ll be back in a jiffy, Mrs. Lovett. Oh, you duck, I adore you. Confound the cash! It’s you I knuckle under to. Man doats® on Venus, and I love Lovett. Bye, bye; I’ll get it done and soon be back. Fifty thousand —fifty—fif—oOh, lor’, why Flukes, your fortune is made at last.” These last words did not reach the ear of Mrs. Lovett. That lady threw herself into a chair, where the gallant major had left her. “Another!” she said. “Another! Why did he try to deceive me? The fool, to pitch upon me, of all persons, to make his victim. I must have found him out, and poisoned him, if I had married him. It is better that Todd should take vengeance for me, and then the time shall come when he shall fall. Yes, so soon as I can, by cajollery or scheming, get sufficient of the plunder into my own hands, Todd’s hours are numbered.” After this, Mrs. Lovett fell into a train of musing, and her face assumed an expression so different from that with which she was wont to welcome her customers in the shop, that not one of them would have known her. But we must look at Todd. It was upon his return home from several calls, the last of which had been this recent visit to Mrs. Lovett, that he had heard the noise in his house, which had terminated in his going up stairs, and being so terrified by Crotchet. It will be recollected that he fell insensible upon the staircase, and that Crotchet took that opportunity of making good his retreat. How long he lay there, he, Todd, had no means of knowing, for all was profound darkness upon the staircase, but his first sensation consisted of a tingling in his feet and hands, similar to the sensation which is properly called “your limbs going to sleep.” Then a knocking noise came upon his sense of hearing. “What’s that? Where am I?” he cried, “No—no. Don’t hang me. Where’s Mrs. Lovett? Hang her. She is guilty!” Knock!—knock!—knock! “Hush! hush! What is it? Who wants me? Good God—no—no. There is no good God for me!” Knock! knock! knock! came again with increased violence at the door of the shop below. Q9OOOOGOOO CORniclooo S CO)