The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 241: what you’re looking at

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

the door, closed it, and locked it on the inside. “If—if you were to lose the key, Mr. Villimay?” said the Lord Mayor. “Why, then,” interposed Sir Richard Blunt, “I’m afraid we should have to stay there until Sunday, unless some couple kindly got married in the meantime.” The Lord Mayor gave a very odd kind of cough, as he said— “What would the Lady Mayoress say?” The air without had been cold, but what was that compared with the coldness within? At least, the street breeze had been dry, but in the church there was such a fearful dampness pervading the narrow passage in which the party found itself, that every one felt as though his very marrow was cold. “This passage,” said Mr. Villimay, “hasn’t been opened for many a long day.” “Indeed!” said the secretary. “No, my lord, it has not: and it’s only a wonder that, after a good hunt in the vestry cupboard, I at all found the key of it.” “Fortunate that you did,” said Sir Richard Blunt, who was all this time making exertions to procure a light, which were as often defeated by the dampness of the air. At length he was successful in igniting a piece of wax candle, and he said— “Gentlemen, this will show us our way through the church to the vestry, where we can get lanthorns.” ® “Yes,” said the Lord Mayor, who was getting so nervous that he thought himself called upon to make some reply to anything and anybody. “Yes, lanthorns in the vestry.” “Well,” said the secretary, “my Lord Mayor, your mayoralty will be distinguished by this dreadful affair for all time to come.” “Many thanks to your lordship, it will.” The secretary smiled as he whispered to his friend Donkin— “The city magistrate don’t seem happy, Donkin.” “Far from it.” At the end of the little narrow, damp, gloomy, cobwebby passage in which they were, was another little door, the upper half of which was of highly ornamented iron fret work, the side of which next to the church interior being gilt. This door likewise yielded to a key which Mr. Villimay produced, and then they found themselves at once in the western aisle of the church. “The stench don’t seem so bad,” said Sir Richard. “No, sir,” said Villimay. “We have got all the windows open far up above there, and there’s quite a current of air, too, right up the belfry.” QDOOOOOOOOO GOnMG oOo SS CO)