the two females took their way to the temple. todd had been quite right in his conjectures. the friend of mrs. ragg was one of the old compatriots of the laundress tribe; and that good lady herself, although, while there was no temptation to do otherwise, she had kept well the secret of her son's residence at colonel jeffery's, broke down like a frail and weak vessel as she was with the weight of the secret the moment she got into a gossip with an old friend. now mrs. ragg had only come into that neighbourhood upon some little errand of her own, and with a positive promise of returning to the colonel's house as soon as possible. she would have kept this promise, but that amid the purlieus of fetter-lane she encountered martha jones her old acquaintance. one word begot another, and at last as they walked up fleet-street, mrs. ragg could not help, with many head-shakings and muttered interjectional phrases, letting martha jones know that she had a secret. nay, as she passed todd's shop, she could not help intimating that she fully believed certain persons, not a hundred miles off, who might be barbers or who might not, would some day come to a bad end in front of newgate, in the old bailey. it was at this insinuation that martha jones lifted up her hands, and mrs. ragg lifted up hers in sympathy. todd had seen this action upon the part of the ladies. to overhear what they were saying was to todd a great object. that it in some measure concerned him he could not for a moment doubt, since the head-shaking and hand-uplifting reference that had been made to his shop by them both as they passed, could not mean anything else. and so, as we have said, he followed them cautiously, dodging behind bulky passengers, so that they should not see him by any sudden glance backwards. one corpulent old lady served him for a shield half up fleet street, until, indeed, she turned into a religious bookseller's shop, and left him nothing but thin passengers to interfere between him and the possibility of observation. but mrs. ragg and her friend martha jones were much too fully engaged to look behind them. in due course, they arrived opposite to the temple; and then, after much flurrying, in consequence of real and supposed danger from the passing vehicles, they got across the way. they at once dived into the recesses of the legally-learned temple. todd dashed after them.
"now, my dear mrs. ragg," said martha jones, "you must not say no. it's got a beautiful head upon it, and will do you good."
"no—no. really."
"like cream."
"but, really, i—i—"
"come, come, it ain't often you is in the temple, and i knew very well he don't miss a bottle now and then; and 'twix you and me and the pump, i think we has as much a right to that beautiful bottled ale as mr. juggas has, for i'd take my bible oath, he don't mean to pay for it, mrs. ragg."
"you don't say so?"
"yes, i does, mrs. ragg. oh, he's a bad 'un, he is. ah, mrs. ragg, you don't know, nor nobody else, what takes place in his chambers of a night."
"is it possible?"
"yes. i often say to myself what universal profundity he must be possessed with, for he was once intended, he says, for the church, and i heard him say he'd have stuck to it like bricks, if he could have heard of any church that was intended for him."
"shocking!"
"yes, mrs. ragg. there's profundity for you."
did martha jones mean profanity?
"ah," interposed mrs. ragg, "we live in a world."
"yes, mrs. ragg, we does; but as you was a saying?"
"eh?"
"as you was a saying about somebody being hung, if rights was rights, you know."
"oh, dear, really you must not ask me. indeed you must not."
"well, i won't; but here we are, in pump court."
todd darted into a door-way, and watched them up the staircase of no. 6, in that highly classic locality. he slunk into the door-way, and by taking a perspective glance up the staircase, he saw them stop upon the first floor. he saw that they turned to the right. he darted up a few stairs, and just caught sight of a black door. then there was a sharp sound, as of some small latch closing suddenly, after which all was still. todd ascended the stairs.
"curses on them!" he muttered. "what can they mean by looking in such a manner at my shop? i thought the last time i saw that woman, ragg, that she was cognizant of something. if now she, in her babbling, would give me any news of tobias—pho! he is—he must be dead."
by this time todd had got to the top of the first flight of stairs, and stood upon the landing, close to several open doors—that is to say, outer black heavy-looking doors—and within them were smaller ones, armed with knockers.
"to the right," he muttered. "they went to the right—this must be the door."
he paused at one and listened. not a sound met his ears, and his impatience began to get extreme. that these two women were going to have a conference about him he fully believed; and that he should be so near at hand, and yet not near enough to listen to it, was indeed galling. in a few moments it became insupportable.
"i must and will know what they mean," he said. "my threats may wring the truth from them; and if necessary, i should not scruple to silence them both. dead men tell no tales, so goes the proverb, and it applies equally well to dead women."
todd smiled. he was always fond of a conceit.
"yes," he muttered, "every circumstance says to me now in audible language, 'go—go—go!' and go i will, far away from england. i feel that i have not now many hours to spare. this fracas with mrs. lovett expedites my departure wonderfully, and to-morrow's dawn shall not see me in london. but i will—i must ascertain what these women are about. yes, and i will do so at all risks."
a glance showed him that the act of temerity was a safe one. the door opened upon a dingy sort of passage, in which were some mops, pails, and brooms. at its further extremity there was another door, but it was not quite shut, and from the room into which it opened, came the murmer of voices. there were other doors right and left, but todd heeded only that one which conducted to the room inhabited. he crept along the passage at a snail's pace; and then having achieved a station exactly outside the door, he placed one of his hands behind one of his elephantine-looking ears, and while his countenance looked like that of some malignant demon, he listened to what was going on within that apartment. martha jones was speaking.
todd listens and learns a dangerous secret.
todd listens and learns a dangerous secret.
"it is good, indeed, mrs. ragg, as you may well say, and the glasses sticks to the table, when they is left over-night, showing, as mr. juggus says, as it's a gluetenious quality this ale is."
"sticks to the table?" said mrs. ragg.
"yes, mum, sticks. but as you was a saying?"
"well, martha, in course i know that what goes to you goes no farther."
"not a step."
"and you won't mention it to no one?"
"not a soul. another glass?"
"no, no."
"only one. nonsense! it don't get into your head. it's as harmless as milk, mr. juggus says."
"but ain't you afeard, martha, he may come in?"
"not he, mrs. ragg. chambers won't see him agin till night. oh, he's a shocking young man. well, mrs. ragg, as you was a saying?"
"well, it is good. as i was a saying, martha, i don't feel uneasy now about tobias, poor boy; for if ever a poor lad, as was a orphan in a half-and-half kind of way, seeing that i am his natural mother, and living, and thanking god for the same, and health, leastways, as far as it goes at this present moment of speakin, i—i—bless me, where was i?"
"at tobias."
"oh, yes, i was at tobias. as i was saying, if ever a poor body was well provided for, tobias is. the colonel—"
"the who?"
"the colonel, martha—the colonel as has took the care of him, and who, sooner or later, will have all the truth out of him about the toddey sween."
"who? who?"
"bless my poor head, i mean sweeney todd. dear me, what am i thinking of?"
"the barber?"
"yes, martha; that horrid barber in fleet-street; and between you and me, there isn't in all the mortal world a more horrid wretch living than he is."
"i'm all of a shake."
"he—he—"
"yes, yes. what—"
"he takes folks in and does for 'em."
"kills 'em?"
"kills 'em."
"what—why—what—? you don't mean to say—why—? take another glass mrs. ragg. you don't mean to say that tobias says, that todd the barber is a murderer?—my dear mrs. ragg, take another glass, and tell us all about it; only look at the cream on the top of it."
"you'll excuse me, mrs. jones, but the truth is, i aught not to say more than i have said; and if the colonel only knew i'd said as much, i can tell you, i think he'd be like a roaring lion. but tobias is quite a gentleman now, you see, and sleeps in as fine a bed as a nobleman could have for love or money. the colonel is very good to him; and there never was such a kind good—good—."
mrs. ragg began to run over with tears of ale.
"bless me, and where does he live?"
"who?"
"the colonel. the good, kind, colonel—colonel—a—a dear me, i forget what you said his name was."
"jeffery, and may his end be peace. he will get the reward of all his good actions in another world than this, martha. ah, martha, such men as he can afford to smile at their latter ends.—no—no, i couldn't."
"only half a glass; look at the—"
"no—no—"
"cream on it."
"i must go, indeed. in course the colonel, since i have been his cook, knows what cooking is, for though i say it, perhaps as should not, i am a cook, and not a spiler of folks' victuals. of course what's said, goes no further. i know i can trust you, martha."
"oh dear, yes, in course. i'll just put on my shawl and walk a little way with you, mrs. ragg. dear me—dear me!"
"what is it, martha?"
"its a raining like cats and dogs, it is. well, i never; what shall you do, mrs. ragg? what shall you do?"
"call a coach, i shall, martha. the last words the colonel said to me was, 'mrs. ragg, rather than there should be any delay in your return,' says he, 'as tobias may want you, call a coach, and i will pay for it.'"
todd had only just time to dart down the staircase before the two ladies made their appearance; and then hiding sometimes in doorways, and sometimes behind columns and corners, he dodged them into fleet-street. a coach was duly called, and mrs. ragg by the assistance of martha jones, was safely bestowed inside it. todd heard distinctly the colonel's address given to the coachman, who would have it twice over, so that he should be sure he had it all right.
"that will do," said todd.
he darted across the street, and made the best of his way to his shop again. he listened at the door for a few moments before he entered, and he thought he heard the sound of weeping. he listened more attentively, and then he was sure. some one was sobbing bitterly within the shop.
"it must be charley," thought todd.
he placed his ear quite close to the panel of the door, in the hope that the boy would speak. todd was quite an adept at listening, but this time he was disappointed, for the sham charley green spoke not one word. yet the deep sobs continued. todd was not in the best of tempers. he could stand the delay no longer, and bouncing into the shop, he cried—
"what the devil is the meaning of all this? what is the meaning of it, you young rascal? i suspect—"
"yes, sir," said johanna, looking todd full in the face, "and so do i."
"you—you? suspect what?"
"that i shall have to have it out, for its aching distracts me. did you ever have the tooth-ache, sir?"
"the tooth-ache?"
"yes, sir. it's—it's worse than the heart-ache, and that i have had."
"ah!—humph! any one been?"
"one gentleman, sir, to be shaved; he says he will call again."
"very good—very good."
todd took from his pocket the key of the back-parlour—that key without which in his own possession he never left the shop; and then, after casting upon johanna a somewhat sinister and threatening look, he muttered to himself—
"i suspect that boy. if he refuse to come into the parlour, i will cut his throat in the shop; but if he come in i shall be better satisfied. charley? come here."
"yes, sir," said johanna, and she walked boldly into the parlour.
"shut the door."
she closed it.
"humph," said todd. "it is no matter. i will call you again when i want you."