The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 267: what you’re looking at

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

may be informed. At present, to do so, would only be to involve both you and myself in one common destruction.” “Then don’t mention it.” “T will not. But beware of one thing.” “What is that?” “Simply this, that any attempts upon your own part to escape from here previous to the time when I shall have completed my arrangements to set you free, will not only derange all that I am planning for you, but end in your utter destruction; for he who has forced me into my present cruel situation will not for one moment hesitate at the murder of us both; so if you wish to be free in a few days you will try nothing, but if on the contrary you wish to destroy both yourself and me, you will make some attempts to rescue yourself from here.” Mrs. Lovett waited rather anxiously for his answer to this speech. “T dare say you are right,” he said at length. “You may be assured I am.” “Then I consent.” Mrs. Lovett drew a long breath of relief, as she muttered to herself— “Tt will do—I have him in the toils; and come what may, I am free from the torturing thought that he may achieve something that may have the effect of delivering me up to the hands of justice. When I am gone, he may remain where he is, and rot for all I care.— You have done wisely,” she said aloud, “and if anything could more powerfully than another incite me to the greatest exertions to liberate you, it would be the handsome manner in which you have placed confidence in me.” “Oh, don’t mention it.” Again there was that tone of sarcasm about the cook’s voice, which created a doubt in the mind of Mrs. Lovett if, after all, he was not merely playing with her, and in his heart utterly disregarding all that she said to him. It is quite questionable if this doubt was not in its bitterness worse than the former anxieties that had preyed upon the mind of the lady; but she found she could do nothing to put an end to it, so she merely said— “Well, I feel much happier now; so I will go at once and get you the brandy that you ask for.—I hope he will drink it freely—it will aid him in drowning reflection.” “Thank you,” said the cook. “I shall expect it with impatience. Confound her, she can’t very well put anything queer in the brandy. I will take care to taste a very small portion of it first; for Sir Richard Blunt has cautioned me particularly to be careful of poison.” “T am going,” said Mrs. Lovett. “Good-bye, madam; I only hope you will be able to carry your benevolent intentions into effect—and,” added the cook to himself, “that I may some fine morning have the pleasure of seeing you hanged.” “Farewell,” said Mrs. Lovett; and she, too, had her aside as she ascended the stairs, for she muttered—“If I were only a little better assured than I am that you meditated something dangerous, I would steal upon you while you slept, and with a knife soon put an end to all trouble regarding you.” Now, it happened that when Mrs. Lovett reached her shop, she saw three people outside the window. The actions of these people attracted her observation. One was a big stout man, of such a size as was rarely seen in the streets of London. The other was a young girl, nicely attired, but with a look of great grief and agitation upon her countenance. The third person of the group was a gentlemanly- looking man, attired in a greatcoat which was buttoned up to his chin. The big stout man was making a kind of movement towards the door of the pie-shop, and the gentleman with the greatcoat was holding up his hand and shaking his head, as though forbidding him. The big stout man then looked angry; and then Mrs. Lovett saw the young girl cling to him, and heard her say— “Oh, no—no; I said I wanted nothing —Come away.” Then the gentleman with the greatcoat pulled his collar down a little; upon which the young girl sprang towards him, and, clasping his arm, cried in tones of intense interest— “Ah, sir, is it indeed you? Tell me is she saved—oh, is she saved?” “She will be,” was the reply of the gentleman in the greatcoat. “Come away.” The big stout man appeared to be getting rather furious at the idea of the gentleman with the greatcoat dictating what he and the young girl should do; but she by a few words pacified him; and then, as if they were the best friends in the world, they all walked away towards the Strand, conversing very seriously and rapidly. “What does this mean?” said Mrs. Lovett. Terror overspread her countenance. Oh, conscience! conscience! how truly dost thou make “Cowards of us all!” What could compensate Mrs. Lovett for the abject terrors that came over her now? What could recompense her for the pang that shot across her heart, at the thought that something was amiss in the fine-drawn web of subtlety that she and Sweeney Todd had drawn? Alas! was the money in the Bank of England, upon which she expected to enjoy herself in a foreign land, now any set-off against that shuddering agony of soul with which she said to herself— “Ts all discovered?” Her strength forsook her. She quite forgot all about the cook, and the brandy she had promised him—she forgot even how necessary it was, in case any one should come, for her to keep up the appearance of composure; and tottering into the back-parlour, she sunk CORniclooo S CO)