all left sir richard blunt, not in a critical situation, but in what may be called an embarrassing one, inasmuch as he could not very well make up his mind what to do next. he had heard much towards her enunciation from the lips of mrs. lovett, and he had possessed himself of some property, which he hoped would be authenticated as having belonged to some of todd's victims. he had likewise found out the mode of secret communication with the ovens below, but whether or not to make any further use of that information just then was a question. while he was debating these matters in his mind, he saw that his little wax light was expiring. he accordingly produced another from his pocket, and lit it, and during the process of so doing, he made up his mind to risk a descent into the regions below, so far as the iron door. he at first took his light in his hand to take it with him, but a few moments' reflection decided him to go in the dark, and placing it upon a corner of the shelf, as he had done before, he opened the cupboard, at the back of which was the secret door, and soon found himself upon the little staircase. of course, the object of sir richard blunt was to make what discovery he could, without betraying the fact of his own presence; and, accordantly with such a design, hastened lightly as foot could fall, so that he was some few minutes in reaching the iron door, which he felt with his left hand, which he kept during his progress outstretched before him. the next object was to get the little wicket open without noise, for he recollected that mrs. lovett had made a sharp sound by the sudden withdrawal of a bolt that secured it on the side next to the staircase. by carefully feeling over the door, he at last lit upon this bolt, and then, by taking his time over it, he succeeded in drawing it back without creating the least sound. when this was done, the wicket yielded easily, for it had no other fastening than that bolt, and when it opened, which it did towards the stairs, the same dull reddish glare came through the small aperture that he had noticed when mrs. lovett was there, but he found what he had not noticed upon that occasion, namely, that when the wicket was removed there were iron bars farther securing the opening, so that it was quite clear it was intended to be a thing of strength. when, however, the magistrate found that there was nothing between him and the region of the ovens but this grating, he placed his ear close to it, in order to listen if any one was stirring. after a few moments, he heard a deep groan. somewhat startled at this sound—for it was certainly unexpected—he tried to pierce with his eyes the obscurity of the place, but the darkness, although not absolute, was of that puzzling character that the more he looked the more all sorts of odd images seemed to be conjured up before his eyes. he began, too, to think that the groan must have been only some accidental sound that he had mistaken, but he was quickly relieved from such an opinion by hearing it again, much more distinctly and unequivocally than it had before sounded upon his ears. there was no possibility of mistaking this groan now; but while the certainty that a groan it was came upon his ears, he became only the more puzzled to account for it; and this state of feeling in him certainly arose from the difficulty he naturally had in conceiving the possibility of any one being upon the premises, and engaged in the service of mrs. lovett, unless they were accomplices of that lady. the idea of the captive cook was not at all likely to cross the imagination of any one, and in her revelations upon that head, during her somnambulistic tour, mrs. lovett had not been sufficiently explicit to enable sir richard blunt to come to a different conclusion.

"i will listen for it again," he thought.

after a few moments more he was rewarded for his patience by not only hearing another groan, but a voice, in accents of the most woe-begone character, said—

"i cannot sleep. it is of no avail. alas! who dare sleep here! god help me, for i am past all human aid."

"who on earth can this be?" said the magistrate to himself.

"it would be better for them to kill me at once," continued the voice. "anything would be preferable to this continued horror; but i suppose they have not suited themselves yet with some one to take my place, so i am not to be sent to see my old friends. oh, bitter—bitter fate. i would that i were dead!"

the captive piemaker contemplates suicide.

the captive piemaker contemplates suicide.

there was a heartiness in the pronunciation of the last word, that quite convinced sir richard blunt of their sincerity; but yet he thought he ought to listen to a little more before he ran the risk of falling into any trap that might be laid for him by mrs. lovett or her satellites, if she had any. he had not to wait long, for whoever it was that was speaking had got into a good train of groaning, and did not seem inclined to leave off for some time.

"is she a woman, or the devil in petticoats?" said the voice.

"humph!" thought sir richard blunt, "that would be rather a hard question to answer upon oath."

"how much longer am i to bear this load of misery?" continued the voice. "no sleep—no food, but just what will sustain nature in her continued sufferings. oh, it is most horrible. have i been preserved from death under many adventurous and fearful circumstances, at last to die here like a rat in a hole?"

"what on earth can be the matter with this man?" thought sir richard.

there was a pause in the lamentations of the man now for a few seconds, during which he only groaned once or twice, just as if by way of letting any one know, who might be listening, that he was not pacified. at length, with a sudden burst of passion, he cried—

"i can bear it no longer. death of my own seeking, and by my own choice as to method, is far preferable to this state of existence. farewell, all—farewell to you, fair and gentle girl, whom i loved and whose falseness first gave me a pang such as the assassin's dagger could not have inflicted. farewell, dear companions of my youth, whom i had hoped to see again!"

"stop!" said sir richard blunt.

the captive cook was still.

"stop!" cried sir richard blunt again.

"good god! who is that?" said the voice from the region of the oven.

"your good genius, if i save you from doing anything rash; who and what are you? tell me all."

"to be betrayed. ah, you are some spy of mrs. lovett's of course, and you only wish to draw me into conversation for my destruction."

"what were you going to do just now?"

"take my own life."

"well, if you find i am an enemy instead of a friend, as i profess to be, you can but carry out your intention."

"that's true."

the captive cook pronounced these two words in such a solemn tone, that the magistrate was more than ever convinced of his sincerity, and that he was far more a victim of mrs. lovett and her associate, the barber, than an accomplice.

"speak freely," said sir richard. "who and what are you?"

"i am the most unhappy wretch that ever breathed. i am cribbed and cabined and confined, i live upon raw flour and water. i curse the hour that i was born, and wish i had been a blind kitten and drowned, rather than what i am."

"but what do you do here?"

"make numberless pies."

"well?"

"it's all very fine for you to say well, whoever you are, but it is anything but well with me. where are you?"

"upon the staircase, near an iron door."

"ah, you are at the aperture through which that abominable mrs. lovett issues to me her commands and her threats. if you have any compassion in your nature, and the smallest desire to hear a story that will curdle your blood, you will find out the means of opening that door, and then i will climb up to it and make one effort for freedom."

"my good friend, i am very much afraid it would materially derange my plans to do so."

"derange your what?"

"my plans."

"and are any plans to be placed in competition with my life and liberty? oh, human nature—human nature, what a difference there is in you when you are upon the right side of the door from what you are when you are upon the wrong."

"my friend," said sir richard blunt, "that is a very philosophical remark, and i compliment you upon it. but now answer me truly one question, and for your own sake, and for the sake of justice, i beg you to answer me truly."

"what is it?"

"are you in present fear of death?"

"no. not while i continue to make the pies."

"very good!"

"very good? now by all that's abominable, i only wish you had but to make them here for one week, and at the same time know as much as i know—i rather suspect that you would never say very good again."

"one week?"

"yes, only a week."

"pray how long have you been here?"

"i have lost count of the long weary days and the anxious nights. oh, sir, be you whom you may, do not sport with me, for i am very—very wretched!"

"if i could but be sure that you are a victim of the woman who lives above," said sir richard.

"sure that i am a victim? oh, god, you suspect me of being her accomplice. well, well, it is but natural, finding me here—i ought to expect as much. what can i say—what can i do to convince you of the contrary?"

"reveal all."

"do you not know then that—that—"

"that what? i may suspect much, but i know nothing."

"then—then—"

the man's voice sunk to a husky whisper, and when he had spoken a few words there was a death-like silence between him and sir richard blunt. the latter at length said—

"and you affirm this?"

"i am willing to swear to it. release me from here and take me to any court of justice you please, and i will affirm it. if you have any suspicion of my good faith, manacle me—bind me up in iron until i tell all."

"i am convinced."

"oh, joy, i shall look upon the blessed sun again. i shall see the green fields—i shall hear the lark sing, and drink in the odour of sweet flowers. i—i am not quite desolate."

sir richard blunt could hear him sobbing like a child. the magistrate did not interrupt this burst of feeling. he was, on the contrary, quite glad to be a witness of it, for it convinced him of the sincerity of the man. he could not think it possible he should find attending upon mrs. lovett's ovens so consummate an actor as it would have taken to play that part. after a few moments, however, he spoke, saying—

"now, my friend, are you one who will listen to reason in preference to merely acting upon the feelings and suggestions of the moment?"

"i hope so."

"well, then, i think i could set you free to-night, but to do so would materially interfere with the course of that justice which is about speedily to overtake mrs. lovett. by remaining here you will keep things as they are for the present, and that, i assure you, is a great object. you say that while you continue making pies, your life is not in positive peril; i ask of you, for the sake of justice, to put up with your present position a short time longer."

"liberty is sweet."

"it is, but you would not like such a woman as mrs. lovett to take the alarm and escape the consequences of her crimes."

"oh! no—no. i will remain. for how long will it be?"

"i cannot say exactly, but the time may be counted by hours, and not one shall be lost. have but a little patience, and i will come to you again. when next you hear my voice at the grating, it will be to give the signal of liberty."

"how can i thank you?"

"never mind that. good night, and take care of yourself. all will be well."

"good night. good night."