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CHAPTER XIII.

GALLANT BEHAVIOUR OF MOONLIGHT TOM.

"THE Globe Tavern is close at hand," said Tom, "shall I run for assistance? I can spare but a few moments, as I am engaged to light a lady on her road home."

"Yes, pray do; send assistance hither," she cried, "and, if you ever need a friend, call on Laura Grey, of the Blue House, Ealing."

Without waiting to ponder upon these words Tom sped off to the tavern, and soon obtained the assistance of the "boots."

The pair at once hurried back to the spot where the old man had lain.

But no one was there.

Not a vestige of them was to be seen.

In that few moments they had both mysteriously disappeared.

Tom stood dumbfounded.

"What can this mean?" he murmured.

As he Spoke the "boots" seized him by the ear.

"Lookee �ere, youngster," he said, "this may be all very well for you, but it ain�t for me. Don�t you come any of your pranks with me. Don�t come none of your tales again about rich old gentlemen lying about in the fog waiting for people to carry �em to bed, because I don�t care about being made a fool of."

"And I don�t care about having my ear pulled," said Tom.

And as he spoke he put out his foot, and, at the same time, dealt the man a back-handed blow on the side of the head which sent him sprawling.

There was no time to waste in long dissertations, so Tom, with a loud laugh, sped away.

He had not long to wait now.

Concealing himself in an alcove, he had scarcely waited ten minutes when he heard a voice cry�

"Quick! links here! on your life!"

He instantly sprang to the spot, and saw a lady alone�the lady who had made with Bella the appointment at the old house.

"Quick! my boy," she said, taking his hand. "Lead me, without delay, to Elster�s Fields."

"A lonely road, my lady," he answered wondering why the hand in his trembled so.

"I know it," she answered, petulantly. "It is no new road to me. If you are afraid leave me, but do not delay me here, or I shall be beset by those to whom my death would be welcomed."

"This way, then, my lady," said Tom, and, holding her hand in one palm, while he raised his blazing torch with the other, he hurried forward.

Not a word was spoken by either at first, as they hastened on; but presently, when they had proceeded about half a mile, there came distinctly through the fog, which at this point began to lessen, the sound of quick footsteps.

The trembling hand now shook like one with palsy.

"Haste! Haste! my lad," cried the lady, looking back, "my foes are after me."

"They will overtake us if we run," cried Tom, "had we not better conceal ourselves?"

"No, no; I dare not delay. Hasten! Hasten!" she persisted.

It was useless to endeavour to persuade her.

She was evidently resolved, and under such circumstances delay would certainly be dangerous to her.

They pressed on, therefore, as fast as the darkness and the rough nature of the ground would permit; but it was evident, at any rate to Tom, that those who followed were rapidly gaining on them.

At length he felt compelled to give vent to the words which flew to his lips.

"My lady," he said, "if you want to be caught you�d better go on as you�re doing now. They�re gaining on us hand over hand. If we hide we shall have a chance of being saved from them at any rate, but if we don�t we shan�t have a ghost of one."

Tom proceeded a few steps more, until he reached a house which stood by itself�a small cottage, near the door of which stood a waggon-load of hay, with the horse taken out of the cart.

"Quick! this way," he cried, and drew the trembling woman beneath the tail of the waggon.

"Remain there," he said. "I must not be with you, or the flame of my link will betray your whereabouts."

Numbed, as it were, with terror, the lady hardly knew what she was doing.

She suffered herself to be placed in a crouching position underneath the cart, and then Tom the Link Boy hurried to the rear of the cottage, where he could conceal the torch.

Eagerly he listened.

He had not long to wait.

Within five minutes the pursuers had arrived at the cottage, and were searching everywhere.

They had heard the fugitives stop, and guessed that somewhere in the neighbourhood of the house they had concealed themselves.

Tom listened intently.

His heart almost told him that something was about to happen.

And he was not deceived.

A shrill cry within a few minutes after proclaimed that they had found their victim.

In an instant Tom�s mind was made up.

Drawing his second link from his belt, he lit it by the first, and, with as silent a step as possible, rushed to the scene of action.

The bright glare of the two torches showed him at once the state of affairs.

The mysterious lady was in the hands of two ruffians, who held her each by one wrist, while a third who stood in front of her, was menacing her with terrible oaths.

"Unhand that lady!" shouted Tom as he sprang forward.

The men, startled by the sudden voice, released her for an instant, but their leader instantly grasped her by the wrist.

"Fools!" he exclaimed; "draw your sword and drive away this boy! Are you to be frightened from your purpose by a lad?"

The men turned, and, seeing their assailant, drew their weapons.

"Be off, you young rapscallion!" cried one of them, "or we will spit you on the points of our swords."

With these words, they made furious lunges at Tom, for the purpose of alarming him.

They little dreamed of the result.

Suddenly swerving to avoid their sharp rapiers, Tom whirled a blazing flambeau into the face of one of the men, and then furiously attacked the other.

With a howl of rage the man fell back on the ground, while the third, releasing his hold upon the lady�s arm, dashed so suddenly upon Tom that he wounded him severely in the arm.

But his fate was sealed too.

As he withdrew his sword for a second lunge, exasperated by the fact that the lady had fled, Tom delivered a blow with his flaming torch full in his face, and sent him reeling back with a loud howl of pain.

The two other fellows were disposed of.

But this one, in spite of the agony, was determined not to give in so easily.

Infuriated at the idea that a boy like Tom the Link Boy should be able thus to defeat him, he drew a pistol from his belt, and, reckless of the fact that the people in the house might hear him, and come to the rescue, he took aim and fired.

But Tom had seen his movement in time.

Just as the bullet sped, one lighted torch was skilfully flung, and struck the man full in the face, sending him again reeling back with a shriek, so that, tumbling over a stone, he fell heavily to the earth.

The other men, severely burnt and nearly blinded, were just endeavouring to scramble to their feet, and knowing that he could not hope to continue long so uneven a combat, Tom withdrew into the gloom of the cottage wall to think what should be the next move.

Where was the lady?

Had she fled back, or had she chanced the perils of the road, and pressed on to Elster�s Fields by herself?

Just as he was considering what course to pursue, a soft voice near him said�

"Tom, I am here."

"Thank Heaven you are safe, my lady" he said; " but what can we do now? Your pursuers are badly wounded, but they have firearms, and do not scruple to use them. Remain here one moment."

At this juncture Tom the Link Boy�s disregard of the laws of property stood them both in good stead.

His exclamation of joy was occasioned by the fact that he saw opposite to him the stable belonging to the cottage, and now, dashing forward, he unbolted the door, and soon stood within the wooden building.

It was the work of a moment to saddle a horse, and in a few minutes the steed, ready for mounting, was brought to the side of the lady.

Tom sprang into the saddle.

"Quick! up behind me," he said.

Leaning over, he assisted the lady to mount on the crupper of the saddle, and having drawn her arms round him to prevent her from falling, he dashed forward.

The utter darkness of the night made it quite impossible to advance without the torch, so that to avoid their enemies was out of the question.

The three men had by this time recovered themselves, and, though smarting with agony, they were roused by their hate and fury to attempt to stop the passage of the daring boy who had so overcome them.

Ranging themselves accordingly at the end of the narrow turning, they awaited him, with pistols ready cooked.

In the now rapidly dispersing fog the lady and her young protector could see them plainly.

"Oh! what is to be done?" she asked, in piteous accents; "we cannot escape them."

"Will you trust me?" asked Tom. "You see what peril we are in now; what I propose will be perilous, though not so greatly so."

"Yes, yes, I will trust you," said the lady, "do as you please with me."

In an instant, with premonitory "Hold fast, now!" Tom turned the horse�s head, and plunged into the darkness of the back yard.

He knew by experience that at the near end of the cottage were ploughed fields, and he had resolved to try a rough ride across these rather than run the risk of passing down a road where they might be riddled with shot.

The yard, of course, was the most difficult to pass, as numberless obstructions were in the way; but, reaching the back-gate before their pursuers could catch them, Tom struck the horse with his burning brand.

The maddened beast at once dashed forward at a furious pace.

Danger was before and behind them.

The shots from the three pistols of their enemies whistled by them, and before them stretched an expanse of utter darkness.

The woman�helpless, dependent on her boy-companion for safety, wept bitter tears as she commended herself to the mercy of Heaven, while the great farm-horse, settling into a heavy gallop, dashed over the rugged ground.

As she glanced back she saw lights flitting to and fro in the farm-house.

"They have roused the people, and we shall be overtaken" she said, as Tom slightly slackened his speed. "We must be quick, or we shall be accused of stealing this horse, and be captured. They will follow us on horseback."

"We will gallop on again for half a mile," said Tom, "and then tie the horse to a tree, and pro-

51

ceed on foot. Elster�s Fields will not, then, be far distant."

"Do as you please," she said, "I am entirely in your hands."

On they went again at a quick pace, and at length, after passing a field wider and more rugged than the rest, they reached a lane which led into the high-road.

Here they dismounted, and Tom, having fastened the horse to a tree, they proceeded at a rapid pace, in the dark, towards the highway.

The fog had nearly cleared away now.

In fact in this part of the country there had been scarcely a sign of it.

It was only over the centre of London that the mist had set in�dense and unfathomable.

Of course, in the days of which we are speaking the places which we now see covered by a dense mass of houses, and crowded by a rapidly growing population, were nothing but green fields; and over them the fog did not hover, preferring the murky streets and the river.

The fugitives, for one reason, would rather have had the fog, though progression was much easier, and they had not now to use the torches.

Hurrying on like this, they suddenly emerged on the high-road, opposite a place where a dense plantation faced them.

Here the lady paused.

"I am safe now," she said.

Tom�s heart sank.

Was she about to dismiss him?

Dismiss him before he had heard one word of the mystery which had been promised in regard to Bella.

But in another moment he was satisfied.

"Yes, I think I�m safe" she added; "and we shall not be watched."

"I think all�s right," said Tom.

"And you are not afraid to follow me through yonder plantation?"

"Afraid, no!" cried Tom, with a chuckling laugh. "Why, my lady, you�ve no idea of what adventures I�ve been through, Lord bless you, my lady�"

"Stop, don�t talk any more," she said, in a worried kind of way. "If you are bold and brave, as you say, follow me. I will be your leader this time."

With these words she made her way across the high-road, and passed to a point where a little gate admitted her to a path through the plantation.

Tom followed her without a word.

Some strange instinct, however, told him that he ought to do so, and, without questioning whether he was going into danger or not, he hurried on.

The path through the dense trees was not a long one.

In about five minutes they reached a little cottage, quite enveloped in trees, where no light burned.

But this, inhospitable as it looked, was still the abode towards which the steps of the weary woman were turned, and when she reached the door she knocked eagerly.

Three knocks, repeated, brought someone to the door, though without a lamp.

"Who�s there?" asked a surly voice.

"It is Lily," responded the woman.

The stern tones melted down to exquisite softness.

"Oh! is it you, Birdie?"

"Yes; and so faint and weary. Get a light."

"In a moment, Birdie."

And then the speaker, who was evidently an old woman, hurriedly re-entered the room, when a few minutes a lamp was kindled.

Then, with a feeble "Enter, Tom, and close the door," the weary fugitive rushed in, and threw herself upon the other�s breast, sobbing out, "Oh, I am so ill�so hunted! They have been after me again, and if it had not been for this lad I should now have been a corpse."

And then, before anyone could be aware of it, she fainted.

"Poor Birdie!" murmured the old woman, as she laid her gently on the couch, and hastened to procure some restorative; "she is, indeed, ill."

"Yes," Tom said, with deep interest, as for the first time he saw plainly her features, and saw how fair and beautiful she was�"yes; and she�s had enough to make her ill."

"Who�s been after her?" asked the woman, eagerly, as she bathed the temples of the fainting woman. "Were there three of them?"

"Yes."

"And you had to fight the lot ?"

"Yes, I fought with my links," replied Tom; "burnt them in the face, so that I shall know them again."

"Brave boy!" cried the old woman. "Brave boy! She�ll not forget you for it. No, no. Ah! she is reviving."

It was so.

The violet eyes gradually opened, and gazed, with an affrighted air, round the room.

Then as they recognised familiar things, a different look came into them, and she said�

"I am at home, then?"

"Yes, Birdie."

"Has he told you all about it?"

"No; only that three men attacked you, and that he saved you with his torches."

"Yes; he is a brave lad, and I shall never forget him," said Lily. "But I will tell you all."

Circumstantially, then, she detailed the events of the night.

Tom, meanwhile, scrutinised her carefully.

She was apparently about thirty years of age, though she might, perhaps, be older.

Her form was full, and rounded in voluptuous proportions, her hands were small and delicate, her eyes large and full of fire, her mouth delicate.

She was, in fact, a most beautiful woman, though here and there were traces of lines which showed that she had not been unscathed by trouble.

"Bring out some wine, and leave us together, Geta," she said, when she had finished her narrative. "I want to give the lad some private instructions."

The old woman calmly and meekly did as she was directed, and in a few minutes Tom and the lady were alone.

"We will talk now of Bella," she said. "How long have you known her, Tom?"

"Even since she was a baby," he cried, with brightening eyes. "We were babies together."

"Nearly sixteen years, then, you have known her?"

"Yes."

"And you love her?"

Tom involuntarily clasped her hands.

"Love her!�oh, yes!" he cried. "She�s the only one I�ve got to love in the world. I shouldn�t think the world worth living for if it weren�t for her."

The lady smiled.

"Ah! you�ll forget all that boyish folly some day."

"Never!"

And his heart went with the word.

How little did he think then how this interview would affect his whole life�how, in fact, it would recur to him as one of the most bitter of his existence.

"Very well, we will not argue against your love," said Lily, "but we will put it to the test, we will try it. Can you part with her?"

He had never dreamed of a parting.

"I think I should die if she was taken away from me," he said in a low murmur.

"What if it was for her good?"

"How should I know that it was so?"

"Well, you must listen to me, and I will try and explain," said the lady, who seemed impatient at the prospect of the battle which she saw was imminent.

"Yes," said Tom, quietly.

"Well," she continued, "Bella was placed with Fadge, the Jew, by those who would gladly have seen her death, but who had not the courage to take her life. He has brought her up, not, as they expected he would, as his own child, but as a stranger. He was far too artful for them. He guessed that some day she might bring gold into his purse, and he was not wrong. The time has come."

Tom�s face expressed bewilderment and fear.

"What time?" he cried. " The time for them to seek her life?"

"Well, I did not say so;" said w lady; "but you are not far wrong. At any rate, he has already begun to obtain money by trading on the fears of those who would like to see her dead; and no doubt, if the worst came to the worst, be would not hesitate at murder."

"He would not," said Tom, in a shuddering tone; "but if he tried to do her a harm I would kill him."

"Well," said the lady, not replying to the last words of Tom�"well, the man that went there last with me is Bella�s deadly enemy. I went with him, pretending to be her foe likewise. By these means I was enabled to send you, through her, the message which gave you the chance of saving my life this night. He desires to remove her from Fadge�s, or pretends to, I do not know which. I wish to remove her, too; but it is to save her from death, or a life-long misery."

"You both want to take her away?" said Tom.

"Yes; but for very different purposes. I wish you to aid me in taking her from the power of old Fadge. I will take her where she will see the bright sunshine and the green fields, where she will be made a lady, where she will learn what it is to live, and not be immured, as it were, in a prison."

There was a severe struggle in Tom�s heart at these words. He knew that if this lady was doing this for Bella�s good�if Bella were willing to go with her, it would be the most utter selfishness to do anything to prevent it.

Why should he step in between her and good fortune?

Ought he not rather do all he could to aid her in securing it; and, while the process in her case was going on, endeavour to qualify himself for the position of her husband?

The lady saw the struggle in his mind, and calmly awaited the result.

"It would be selfish of me to say �No,�" he answered, after awhile; "but still it will be very hard to part with her."

"Yes; but you see your duty plain before you?"

"Yes."

"And you will help me to rescue her from what may be worse than death?"

"I will, if Bella wishes it."

"Of that you may be quite sure," replied the lady. "I will leave that for you to find out. Depend upon it, it is for her good, and she will know it, and recognise the necessity for acting at once."

"And shall I be able to come and see her?" asked Tom, plaintively.

"Yes; most certainly, whenever you like," replied the lady, more briskly now, as she saw that her plan was succeeding. "And now let me explain to you exactly what is to be done. You must go home in the morning�you can rest here to-night�to old Fadge�s, and tell Bella all that has happened, and that I have risked my life to save hers. Let her know that in three nights I shall come to the place dressed as a man; that I shall bring her a suit of boy�s clothes for herself, and that we must then make our escape. Let her know that her liberty, her very existence, depends on it, and she will come."

"I shan�t stop at Fadge�s long after her." murmured Tom.

"Don�t go away too soon�and don�t do anything rash," said the lady. "As soon as we make good our escape we will come here, and you can aid us to reach the new home. It is far hence�quite ten miles, and if I am discovered�but I will not think of that, the idea is too horrible. And now, my lad, we will have some supper, and then you can retire to rest."

She tinkled slightly on the bell, and the old woman once more made her appearance.

Within half an hour the supper�a good substantial one, which Tom highly appreciated�was ready, having partaken of which the inmates retired to rest.

"Ah!" said the Link Boy to himself, as he

52

sank into the bed, so different to that provided by old Fadge, "I will reform now, give up thieving, and turn honest. I�ll be better that way in time."

Poor Tom!

Where were the memories of the past to make him better?

Where was the vision of a gentle mother to drive away the thoughts of crime?

All he remembered of an earlier life was connected with a home of dirt and squalor, a father of dark and gloomy aspect, a mother who used to strike him if he did not "beg, cadge, or steal."

How could he be blamed, who had never learned the golden lesson of honesty?

Nevertheless, dreams came to him, as they came to others�dreams of Bella�s bright face, of her smiles as of old, and a home in the future.

Poor Tom!

CHAPTER XIV.

SWEENEY TODD SEES AN APPARITION.

THE barber of Fleet-street had, as we have seen, an abundance of work. Customers flowed in in one ceaseless stream, and his coffers were being daily replenished, and he grew more sumptuous, more hideously gleeful, and more ugly every day.

Nevertheless, Sweeney Todd was in love.

The widow Darkman, who kept the mysterious pie-shop which communicated with Todd�s cellars, had lived for some years with him; but he was growing tired of her superabundant charms, and was resolved to take unto himself a wife.

He had been urged to this step in a peculiarly horrible way.

A gentleman who had on several occasions been in his shop, but who had from time to time been saved from the death-trap by accidental circumstances, had shown him the portrait of a lady to whom he had not long been married.

She was young, handsome, buxom, and just caught the heart of the barber.

Like most ugly men, he considered himself eminently handsome, and had no doubt that the charms of his person would make an impression upon the unfortunate fair one as soon as she should lose her husband.

Before, therefore, he removed the one obstacle in the way�the husband�he ingratiated himself so thoroughly with him, that he obtained an invitation to his house, and thus, of course, an introduction to the lady.

These visits having been several times repeated, he at length deemed it time to put in operation his plan.

One evening, therefore, when the gentleman came to be shaved, his chair gave way, and he was sent to join the other martyrs of the death-trap.

For three days Sweeney Todd paid no visit to the lady.

On the fourth, however, he presented himself, and asked for Mrs. Bertram.

He found her in tears�distracted, nearly mad.

Her husband had been found cruelly mangled in the street, for Sweeney Todd had on this occasion changed his mysterious plan of disposing of the bodies of his victims.

For a good reason.

If Mr. Bertram had never been found, his wife could never have known whether she was empowered or not to marry again.

She was glad to see Sweeney, in spite of his ugliness.

She knew him as a friend of the "dear departed," and never for one moment imagined that he was coming to plead a tender tale.

Cold-blooded ruffian as Sweeney Todd was, he was sufficiently acquainted with human nature to know that Mrs. Bertram would look upon him with utter disgust if he dared to utter a word of a loving nature in the presence, as it were, of the dead.

He condoled with her accordingly, expressed a deep sorrow at losing his friend, and for many visits only stopped a short time.

About a week, however, before the terrible occurrence I am about to narrate, he plucked up his courage, and, having dressed himself in his best, he left his shop in charge of the tall dark man who occasionally assisted him (and who knew nothing of the secrets of the revolving chair), and made his way towards the house of the widow.

He had, during the course of former visits, impressed upon her mind the large amount of his wealth, and he had observed that her eyes had sparkled as she heard of his gold.

So now attired fit "to kill," he knocked at the door of the widow�s house, and was at once admitted to her sanctum.

She was not alone.

Near her was sitting a young man, some years her junior, rather pleasant looking, and most decidedly well dressed.

Sweeney Todd�s heart sank.

Could this be a lover?

He was speedily undeceived.

"Allow me to introduce you, Mr. Todd," said Mrs. Bertram, "to my brother Samuel."

Samuel rose and bowed, though he eyed Sweeney with no pleasant glance.

"I think we have met before, Mr. Todd," he said, meaningly.

Todd indulged in one of his ghastly grins.

"Very likely," he said, "although you have the advantage of me. I do not know your face."

"Perhaps not," said the brother; "but I have seen you. You were pointed out to me in a tavern in Fleet-street, and�"

"Oh, no doubt," replied Sweeney, eagerly interrupting him, "I am well known there. And how are you, Mrs. Bertram? It is almost a superfluous question, however, for you look charming."

The widow smirked, and declared she felt anything but well.

At this the brother rose.

"I�m going, Selina," he said; "I will return at a later hour."

And, with a nod to the barber, he passed out.

"The villain!" he cried, as he made his way into the passage, and then concealed himself in such a position that he could hear all that was said; " but I�ll thwart him. I can see his game plainly."

"I�ll get him into my shop, and I�ll polish him off," thought Todd, as he sidled over to the side of the widow.

"Well, Mrs. Bertram," he said, "if you are anything but well, I am sure your looks belie it. But no doubt you miss the comforts of life; you must be lonely without poor Bertram."

"I am, indeed," sighed the young widow.

"And has your heart never told you that there is another in the world who would gladly take his place�who would make you as happy as he did?" said the barber.

And so it went on.

In love-making, Todd�s tongue ran glibly and rapidly, and he mixed up his wealth and his intentions to retire, artistically, with his professions of affection.

He spoke of the handsome home he would take her to (hers was a humble one), he impressed upon her mind the advantages of having a settlement made on herself; and finally, when Samuel entered the room rather abruptly, she had whispered "Yes," and her head was on the ugly brute�s shoulder.

Samuel made no remark, nor did he, in fact, pretend to observe what they were doing.

Mrs. Bertram jumped up with a pretty start of consciousness. Sweeney Todd sat erect on the sofa, and Sam sat by the fire.

He even tried to make himself agreeable.

But it was of no use.

Todd saw that some deep game was in progress, and he determined, consequently, to be even with him.

He very soon took his leave�in spite of the earnest entreaties of the widow that he would remain.

He felt sure that Samuel had listened, and he was resolved to do the same.

Accordingly, having gone through the ceremony of the cordial farewell, he went out of the room, refusing Sam�s kind offer to see him to the door.

He had no wish, indeed, to be followed.

Seeing that the room next to that in which the widow and her brother sat was easily accessible, he crept in at all hazards, and applied his ear to the keyhole.

In a few minutes his patience was rewarded.

"Samuel," said the widow, "you seem downcast."

"No wonder."

"Why ?"

"Because you have been playing the fool with that fellow Todd."

The widow tossed her head.

"And pray am I never again to enjoy the pleasures of wedded life because you do not wish it?"

"That is not the question," he said. "You may have fifty husbands if you like, but pray don�t marry a murderer!"

Sweeney Todd bit his lips to prevent a yell of rage.

"He shall die for this," he muttered.

Meanwhile, the widow uttered a cry of horrified surprise.

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"I mean what I say," said the quiet and surly Samuel. "This fellow, Todd, has got a most evil reputation among his neighbours in Fleet-street. All manner of horrible stories are told in regard to him, and fearful smells rise from the cellars beneath his house. There is going to be a regular investigation into the matter, and you will then find what a villain you have been fixing your affections upon."

"Well, you see, it isn�t so much my affections," said the widow, little dreaming who was listening, "but you must remember that he is very rich."

"Yes; but how was his money got? It is blood-money."

"If it has been got in the way you think, of course that is another thing," replied the widow; "but really I shouldn�t like to offend him without knowing the truth."

"You�ll believe me, I suppose," said Samuel, "if I prove it?"

"Of course I will."

"Then this very night I will find out."

"Don�t be hasty," said the widow; "see how late it is. Put it off till to-morrow."

"And then you�ll give him warning," growled Sam.

"No, I won�t."

"Well, I�ll not run the risk," said Samuel. "I listened at the door, and heard all your spooning. You�re over head and ears in love with this black-hearted, baboon-faced murderer. It�s only nine o�clock, so there�s plenty of time."

Sweeney Todd waited to hear no more.

With a light, indeed, an almost noiseless step, he made his way out of the room, down the stairs, and into the street.

"I�ll be beforehand with him," he said.

He felt sure that Samuel would pay him a visit, and so the instant that he reached his house he dismissed his attendant.

A gentleman was at the moment of his entrance washing himself, and standing for the purpose in his breeches and shirt.

Sweeney saw his rich dress, and at once marked him for a victim.

"Good-evening, good-evening," he said. "You can go, Jacob; I�ll polish the gentleman off. Fine evening�rather cold�like a fire, sir?"

"No, thank you," said the gentleman, as Jacob fussed about, went out, and Todd fastened the door after him. "No, thank you, I�m in a hurry."

"Oh! very well, sir," said Todd, strapping away at his razor. "Sit down here, sir�won�t keep you a moment."

The unsuspecting victim at once placed himself in the chair of death, and Todd, as usual, pretended to go into the next room for the lather.

53

As usual, also, the large chair fell suddenly, the victim passed rapidly down, down upon the spikes, and the chair righted itself.

It had scarcely done so when there came a knock at the door.

"Curse the people!: cried Sweeney, savagely. "Curse them! This is the second time that I have been disturbed just as I have done my work. The fiends flyaway with such impatient fools. Perhaps the fellow isn�t half dead."

Rat�tat�tat!

Impatiently this time.

The barber hurried to the door, and opened it.

Samuel stood on the threshold.

"Good-evening," he said. "I wish to speak to the gentleman you have just shaved."

Todd grinned.

"Certainly," he said. "Come inside, and I will show you where to find him."

Samuel entered boldly.

He was one of those cool, calm, determined natures that feared nothing.

Todd carefully secured the door behind him, and then quietly led the way into the adjoining room.

The door of this he also locked.

"Why these precautions?" asked Samuel, quietly, as he slipped his hand into the breast of his doublet.

He spoke in a firm, unmoved voice, though the red light of murder shone plainly in the eyes of the demon barber.

"Because you have come here to pry into my secrets," said Todd, "and either you or shall not leave this room alive."

"Very well," said Samuel, as he drew out a long knife, and kept his eyes fixed upon the movements of his enemy, "we will fight, and I will kill you. I will then search for your money, and I and my sister will share it, for it would be impossible to find the friends of those whom you have murdered, and Mrs. Darkman has made into pies."

"Curse you, I�ll be your death!" shrieked the barber, as he sprang towards him.

Samuel was prepared for him, and as the infuriated Sweeney leaped upon him, he dodged on one side and inflicted a severe wound upon the barber�s arm.

Sweeney Todd, however, was too enraged to notice pain.

Without even a shudder to indicate his suffering, he once more rushed upon his adversary, and seized his right arm with his left hand.

The men now were face to face, and standing so close that every blow must take terrible effect.

They gazed into each other�s eyes; and as they stood thus they presented an extraordinary contrast.

In Sweeney Todd�s face there was expressed the most intense rage and fury.

In that of Samuel there was only a calm determination to destroy his adversary.

He saw no useful object to gain in giving up this ruffian to the police.

The money would then be given up to the Government, and no one would reap the benefit of his stored-up wealth.

He had resolved, therefore, as we have seen by his speech to Todd, to kill the murderer, and then enrich himself and his sister with the produce of a minute search in those chambers of horror.

He forgot that it was blood money.

The way he argued was, that it might as well be theirs as anyone else�s.

In this combat, therefore, he had by far the best chance.

He was cool, calculating, deliberate, while his adversary was so savagely malicious that he struck wildly, and at random, aiming blows which, if they had taken effect, would have gashed open his enemy in many places; but which, as it was, fell harmless.

At length, watching his opportunity, Samuel wrenched his arm from the other�s grasp, and putting out his foot threw Todd heavily.

But the barber was up to his dodge.

He made a grab at his for in falling, and both, consequently, came together to the ground.

Here they renewed the struggle, and clutched each other like grim death, rolling over, stabbing at one another, and interlacing their limbs, so that it was difficult to tell one from the other.

At length the strength of the barber, rendered almost superhuman by his frenzy, and by his fear of punishment, even if he did not meet death now at the hands of his relentless enemy, prevailed over that of the younger man, and Samuel lay beneath him.

"Ha!" cried the barber, as he panted for breath, and struggled to free his hands, so as to put a finishing stroke to his victim. "Ha! I�ve got you now. So you and your beautiful sister were to have all my money, were you, and enjoy yourselves at my expense? You see you�re wrong�just taken in nicely. I shall marry your sister, and she shall have my wealth; but you, my fine cock-sparrow, will die!"

At this instant a voice behind him�solemn, slow, sepulchral, said�

"Murderer, beware!"

With a cry of terror Sweeney Todd turned, and as he did so he released his intended victim, and uttered a cry of terror.

Standing half-way through the trap-door, attired still in breeches and shirt, now stained slightly with blood, was the gentleman whom but a short time before had been flung down the trap-door by the barber.

"You may well gaze at me in astonishment," he said, as the barber eyed him with bloodshot eyes, which seemed ready to burst from his head. "You little thought, when you hurled me down upon the spikes of your death-trap, that I should live to denounce you. Stranger," he added, turning to Samuel. who had risen also, and was leaning fatigued against the wall�"stranger, I have heard you talk with this villain about his riches."

(To be continued.�Commenced in No. 78.)