At seven o'clock on the morning following these strange events, there were early prayers at St. Dunstan's, and the bells called together the devout at half-past six. Todd was there! Is the reader surprised? Has he never yet in his mundane experience met with a case of sanctimonious villany? Does he think that going to prayer is incompatible with such a life as Todd's? Pho--pho! Live and learn. Todd met the beadle upon the steps of the church.
"Ah, Mr. T.," said that functionary. "It does one good to see you, that it does--a deal of good. I say that, of all the tradesmen in Fleet Street, you is the piousest."
"We owe a duty to our creator," said Todd, "which all the pomps and vanities of this world ought to make us neglect."
"Have you heard o' the suicide in Norfolk Street?"
Todd shook his head.
"Why, the beadle of St. Clement's was asking of me only last night, what sort of man you was."
"I?"
"Yes, to be sure. It's a gentleman as you went to shave, and as you lent a razor to, as has cut his blessed throat in Norfolk Street."
"God bless me," said Todd, "you don't mean that? Dear! dear! We are indeed here to-day and gone to-morrow. How true it is that flesh is grass;--and so the gentleman cut his throat with my razor, did he?"
"Above a bit."
"Well, well, it is to be hoped that the Lord will be merciful to the little frailties of his creatures."
"Conwulsions! Do you call that a little frailty?"
Todd had passed on into the body of the church, and any minute observer might have noticed, that when he got there, there was a manifest and peculiar twitching of his nose, strongly resembling the evolutions of a certain ex-chancellor. Then, in a low tone to himself, Todd muttered--
"They make a great fuss about the smell in St. Dunstan's, but I don't think it is so very bad after all."
Perhaps one of Todd's notions in going to early morning prayers was to satisfy himself upon the point of the stench in the church. The morning service was very short, so that Todd got back to his shop in ample time to open it for the business of the day. He gave a glance at the window, to be quite sure that the placard announcing the want of a pious lad was there, and then with all the calmness in the world he set about sharpening his razors. Not many minutes elapsed ere a man came in, leading by the hand a boy of about thirteen years of age.
"Mr. Todd," he said, "you want a lad."
"Yes."
"You don't know me, but I am Cork, the greengrocer in the market."
"Oh," said Todd.
"You see this is Fred, by the first Mrs. C., and the second Mrs. C. thinks he'd better go out to something now; if you will take him 'prentice we will provide him, and he can run into our place for his meals and tell us all the gossip of the shop, which will amuse Mrs. C., as she's in a delicate condition, and I have no doubt you will find him just the lad for you."
"Dear! dear!" said Todd.
"What's the matter, Mr. T.?"
"I'm so aggravated.--Is he pious?"
"Decidedly."
"Does he know his catechism and his belief?"
"Oh, yes. Only ask him, Mr. Todd. Only ask him."
"Come here, my dear boy. Who was Shindrad, the great uncle of Joshua, and why did Nebuchadnezar call him Zichophobattezer the cousin of Neozobulcoxacride?"
"Eh?" said the boy. "Lor!"
"What learning!" said the greengrocer. "Ah, Mr. Todd, you are one too many for Fred, but he knows his catechiz."
"Well," said Todd, "if the boy that I have promised to think about don't suit me, I'll give you a call, Mr. Cork. But, you see, I am such a slave to my word, that if I promise to think about anything, I go on thinking until it would astonish you how I get through it."
"Well, I'm sure we are very much obliged to you, Mr. Todd. Come along, Fred."
"Indeed!" said Todd, when he was once more alone. "That would suit me certainly. A lying, gossiping boy, to be running home three or four times a day with all the news of the shop. Good--very good indeed."
Todd stropped away at the razors with great vehemence, until he suddenly became aware that some one must be blocking up nearly the whole of the window, for a sudden darkness, like an eclipse, had stolen over the shop. We have before had occasion to remark that Todd had a kind of peephole amid the multifarious articles which blocked up his windows, so that he was enabled to look out upon the passing world when he pleased. Upon this occasion he availed himself of this mode of ascertaining who it was that had stopped the light from making its way into the shop. It was no other than our old acquaintance, Big Ben from the Tower, who was on his way to Mr. Oakley's. The heart of Ben had been sensibly touched by the distress of Johanna, and he was going to give her a word or two of comfort and encouragement, which would wholly consist of advising her to "never mind." But still Ben's intention was good, however weak might be the means by which he carried it out. As for passing Todd's window without looking in, he could no more help having a good stare, than he could help doing justice to a flagon of old ale, if it were placed before him; and upon this occasion the little placard, announcing the want of a pious youth, fixed the whole of Ben's wonder and attraction.
"A pious lad!" said Ben. "Oh, the villain. Never mind. Easy does it--easy does it."
"Curses on that fellow!" muttered Todd. "What is he staring at?"
"A pious lad!" ejaculated Ben. "Pious--oh--oh. Pious!"
"Shaved this morning, sir?" said Todd, appearing at his door with a razor in his hand. "Shaved or dressed? Polish you off surprisingly, in no time, sir."
"Eh?"
"Walk in, sir--walk in. A nice comfortable shave makes a man feel quite another thing. Pray walk in, sir. I think I have had the pleasure of seeing you before."
Ben cast an indignant look at Sweeney Todd; and then, as upon the spur of the moment--for Ben was rather a shrewd thinker--he could not find anything strong enough to say, he wisely held his peace, and walked on. Todd looked after him with a savage scowl.
"Not much plunder," he muttered, "but suitable enough in another point of view. Well--well, we shall see--we shall see."
Ben continued his course towards the city, ever and anon repeating as he went--"A pious lad!--a pious lad. Oh, the rascal."
When he reached within a few doors of the spectacle-maker's, he saw a boy with a letter in his hand looking about him, and probably seeing that Ben had a good-humoured countenance, he said to him--
"If you please, sir, can you tell me which is Mr. Oakley's?"
"Yes, to be sure. Is that letter for him?"
"No, sir, it's for Miss Oakley."
Ben laid his finger upon the side of his nose, and tried to think.
"Miss Oakley," he said. "A letter for Miss Oakley;" and then, as nothing very alarming consequent upon that proposition presented itself to him, he said, "Easy does it."
"Do you know the house, sir?" asked the boy.
"Yes, to be sure. Come along, boy."
"Yes, sir."
"Who's the letter from?"
"A gentleman, sir, as is waiting at the Unicorn, in Addle Street."
"A gentleman as is waiting at the Addle in Unicorn Street," said Ben; and then, not being able still to hit upon anything very outrageous in all that, he contented himself once more with an "Easy does it."
The boy accompanied him to the door of Mr. Oakley's, and then Ben said to him--
"I'll give the letter to Miss Oakley if you like, and if you don't like, you can wait till I send her to you. Easy does it."
"Thank you, sir," said the boy, "I'd rather give it to the young lady myself."
"Very good," said Ben. "Rise betimes, and hear early chimes."
With this effort of proverbial lore, Ben marched into the shop, where old Oakley was, with a magnifying glass fitted to his eyes, performing some extraordinary operation upon a microscope. Ben merely said "How is you?" and then passed on to the back-room, having received from the old optician a slight nod by way of a return of the friendly salutation. Ben always esteemed it a stroke of good fortune when he found Johanna alone, which, in the present instance, he did. She rose to receive him, and placed one of her small hands in his, where for a moment or two it was completely hidden.
"All right?" said Ben.
"Yes, as usual. No news."
"I saw a boy at the door with a letter from a unicorn."
"From a what?"
"No, an addle--no. Let me see. A unicorn, waiting with a gentleman in addle something. Easy does it. That ain't it, neither. Where is she?"
Guessing that it was some one with a communication from some friend to her, Johanna had glided to the door, and got the letter from the boy. She came with it to the parlour at once, and opened it. It was from Colonel Jeffery, and ran as follows:--
"DEAR MISS OAKLEY,--If you will oblige me with another meeting in the Temple Gardens this evening, at or about six, I have something to tell you, although I am afraid nothing cheering.--Believe me to be your sincere friend,
"JOHN JEFFERY."
She read it aloud to Ben, and then said--
"It is from the gentleman who, I told you, Ben, had interested himself so much in the fate of poor Mark."
"Oh, ah," said Ben. "Easy does it. Tell him, if he'd like to see the beasts at the Tower any time, only to ask for me."
"Yes, Ben."
"Well, my dear, I came by the barber's, and what do you think?"
Johanna shook her head.
"Guess again."
"Spare me, Ben. If you have any news for me, pray tell me. Do not keep me in suspense."
Ben considered a little whether what he had to say was news or not; and then taking rather an enlarged view of the word, he added--
"Yes, I have. Todd wants a pious boy."
"A what?"
"A pious boy. He's got a bill in his window to say that he wants a pious boy. What do you think of that, now? Did you ever hear of such a villain? Easy does it. And he came out, too, and wanted to 'polish me off.'"
"Oh, Ben."
"Oh, Johanna. Take things easy."
"I mean that you should be very careful indeed not to go into that man's shop. Promise me that you will never do so."
"All's right. Never be afeard, or you'd never tame the beastesses. If I was only to go into that fellow's shop and fix a eye on him so--you'd see!"
Ben fixed one of his eyes upon Johanna in such a manner, that she was glad to escape from its glare, which was quite gratifying to him (Ben), inasmuch as it was a kind of tacit acknowledgment of the extraordinary powers of his vision.
"Easy does it," he said. "All's right. Do you mean to meet this colonel?"
"Yes, Ben."
"All's right. Only take care of yourself down Fleet Street, that's all."
"I will, indeed."
"What do you say to taking me with you?"
"Where, Ben?"
"Why, where you go to meet the colonel, my dear."
"Personally, I should not entertain the smallest objection; but there is no danger in the transaction. I know that Colonel Jeffery is a man of honour, and that in meeting him upon such an occasion I am perfectly safe."
"Good again," said Ben. "Easy does it. Hilloa! what's that in the shop?"
"Only my mother come home."
"Only? The deuce! Excuse me, my dear, I must be off. Somehow or another your mother and I don't agree, you see, and ever since I had that dreadful stomach ache one night here, it gives me a twinge to see her, so I'll be off. But remember--easy does it."
