The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 342: what you’re looking at

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

come back again.” “Be at rest upon that point, Johanna. He cannot come back without my being made aware of it by my friends without. But tell me in what way you attach such serious importance to this piece of paper, Johanna?” “In what way, my dear friend? Do I not say that it is in poor Mark’s own handwriting? How could it come here unless he brought it? Oh, sir, do not ask me in what way I attach importance to it. Rather let me ask you how, otherwise than upon the supposition of his having become one of Todd’s victims, can you account for its being here at all?” “Really,” said Sir Richard, “this Mark Ingestrie must have been a very forgetful young man.” “Forgetful?” “Yes. It seems that it was necessary for him to carry your name and address in his pocket. Now if he had given such a slip of paper as this to another person for fear he should forget what was not so deeply imprinted in his memory, I should not have wondered at it for a moment.” Johanna clasped her hands and looked the magistrate in the face, as she said— “Then, sir, you think—that is, you believe—that—that this is no proof of poor Mark having been here?” “As I hope for mercy in Heaven, it is to my mind a proof the other way, Johanna.” She burst into a passion of hysterical weeping. Sir Richard Blunt knew too much of human nature to interfere by word or gesture, with this effort of nature to relieve the overchanged heart, and he waited patiently, affecting to be looking upon some old prints upon the wall until he heard the sobs decrease to sighs. Then he turned with a smile to Johanna, and said— “My dear girl, gather hope from that scrap of paper, not despair. Depend upon it—the address of your father held too conspicuous a place in the heart of him who loved you to require that it should have been written upon a piece of paper. You know that my theory on the subject is that Mr. Thornhill was actually sent to you by Mark Ingestrie, and that it was he who perished here.” “And Mark himself—if that were so?” “His fate has still to be elucidated; but that he perished here I do not believe, as I have often told you.” “This is an exquisite relief,” said Johanna, as she laid her hand upon her heart. “Make much of it,” said Sir Richard; “something even yet seems to tell me that you will be happy. I cannot think it possible that Heaven would permit such a man as Todd to destroy your earthly felicity. But how comes the shop in such confusion?” “Tt was the dog. He would look everywhere, and I had not the heart nor the strength to prevent him. Todd has a horror of him; and fright will keep him quiet when I tell him the cause of the mischief that is done here.” “Perhaps then it will be better to leave it as it is,” said Sir Richard, “than awaken his suspicions by attempting to put the place to rights, in which you might fail in some particulars known to him. And now tell me, Johanna, what passed between him and this Mrs. Lovett?” “But a few words, sir, before I was sent out. There is one thing though that I suspect, and that is that Mrs. Lovett has found out my secret.” “Indeed?” “Yes, she regarded me with a strange gaze that made me feel that she penetrated my disguise. I know not if she will say as much to Todd, but one glance of his eye upon me when he returns will satisfy me upon that, I think.” At this moment a bugle sounded in Fleet Street. “That is my signal,” said Sir Richard. “Todd is coming. I will be close at hand, Johanna, lest Mrs. Lovett has told him your secret, and you should find yourself in any danger, Farewell! Heaven hold you in its keeping.” @BOOOOOOOO CORniclooo S CO)