The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 358: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER CVIII. MRS. OAKLEY SEES A STRANGE SIGHT, AND THINKS THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME. “What’s that, eh?” added Lupin. Mrs. Oakley sank flat upon the floor in a moment; she thought that now surely her last hour was come. “T thought I heard a noise. Did you, Jane?” added Lupin. “T didn’t hear anything,” said the woman. “It’s your conscience, old boy, that makes you hear all sorts of things. You know you are a hard one, and no mistake. You know, there ain’t exactly your equal in London for a vagabond. But come, hand out the cash, for I ain’t particularly fond of your company, nor you of mine, I take it.” “Tt must have been imagination,” muttered Lupin, still alluding to the noise he had heard or fancied he had heard. “It must have been imagination, and the wind at night does certainly make odd noises in the chapel at times, I know.” “Bother the noises. Give me the money, and let me go, I say. Come, be quick about it, or else I shall think of some way of helping myself, and you know when I begin, that I am apt to be rather troublesome.” “A little,” said Lupin. “Just a little. But as I was saying, Jane—you and I together might make a fortune quite easily. You are a clever woman.” “Am I really? When did you find that out, you old rogue?” “Really, Jane, it is difficult to talk with you while you are in such a humour. Come, will you take something to drink? Say you will, and you shall have the very best I can get you. Only you must promise to take it in moderation, and not get much the worse for it, Jane.” “Do you think now that I am such an idiot as to take a drain of anything in your place? No! I am not quite so green as that. Give me some money and I’1l fetch something, and as long as I have got my hand on the bottle, where I will take good care to keep it, I shall know that I am safe from you, but not otherwise. You would like to give me a drop of the same stuff you have set the woman in the next room to sleep with, wouldn’t you now, my beauty?” “No, Jane. Not you. You are not such a fool as to be taken in as she is. Such poor tricks won’t do for you, I know well. There is money, and there is an empty bottle. Go and get what you like for yourself, as you wish not what I may happen to have in the place. I will let you in again, so you need not be afraid of that, Jane.” “Afraid? Afraid? That’s a likely thing, indeed. I afraid of being kept out by you? No, old boy, if you did keep me out one minute longer than my patience lasted, and that would not be very long I think, I would raise such a racket about your ears, that you would wish yourself anywhere but where you are. How did I get in before, when you would have given one of your ears to keep me out? Why, by frightening you, of course, and I’Il do it again. Give me hold of the bottle. I afraid of you, indeed? A likely thing.” The lady left the room with the bottle and half a guinea in her hand, while Lupin, with affected solicitude, lighted her to the door of the chapel, and lingered until he heard her footsteps die away right up the dismal dingy-looking court. While Lupin was lighting his wife down the stairs, Mrs. Oakley found a small slit in the canvas that made the division between the two rooms, and she industriously widened it, so that she was enabled to see into the adjoining apartment. She then waited in fear and in trembling the return of Lupin. The arch hypocrite was not many minutes in making his appearance. He set the candlestick down upon the table with a force that nearly started the candle out of it, and then in a fierce voice he cried— “Done—she is done at last! Ha! ha! Jane, you are done at last! I kept that bottle for an emergency. It seemed empty, but smeared all around its inner side is a sufficient quantity of a powerful narcotic to affect the very devil himself if he were to drink anything that had been poured into it. You think yourself mighty clever, Jane; but you are done at last. Now what a capital thing it is that I have sent that old fool, Mrs. Oakley, to sleep, for otherwise I should certainly be under the necessity of cutting her throat.” Mrs. Oakley could hardly suppress a groan at this intelligence; but the exigencies of her situation pressed strongly upon her, and she did succeed in smothering her feelings and keeping herself quiet. Lupin paced the room anxiously waiting for his wife’s return; and in, the course of about five minutes, a heavy dab of a single knock upon the chapel door announced that fact. He immediately snatched up the candle and ran down stairs to let her in, lest according to her threat she should get to the end of her very limited stock of patience. They came up the stairs together—Jane was speaking— “Brandy!” she said; “I have got brandy, and I mean to keep my hand on the bottle, I tell you. Ah, I know you—no one knows you better than I do. You may impose upon everybody but me. You won’t find it so very easy a thing to get the better of me; I’ll keep my hand on the bottle.” “How very suspicious you are,” said Lupin. “It’s quite distressing.” “Ts it? Ho! ho! Well, I’ll have my drop and then I will go. If you are civil to me whenever I choose to come it will be better for you; but I am not the sort of person to stand any nonsense, I can assure you.” “No, Jane, I never said you were,” replied Lupin; “and I hope that tonight will see the beginning, as it were, of a kind of reconciliation and better feeling between us. I am sure I always thought of you with kindness.” By this time they were in the room, and the lady half drew the knife she had before exhibited from the bosom of her dress, as she said— CORniclooo S CO)