The Penny Dreadfuls MEGAPACK™ (311 page)

But what it was, what could it be, and what was to be done to get rid of it—these were the anxious questions that were asked right and left, as regarded the serious nuisance, without the nuisance acceding any reply.

But yet one thing seemed to be generally agreed, and that was, that it did come, and must come, somehow or other, out of the vaults from beneath the church.

But then, as the pious and hypocritical Mr Batterwick, who lived opposite, said,-

‘How could that be, when it was satisfactorily proved by the present books that nobody had been buried in the vault for some time, and therefore it was a very odd thing that dead people, after leaving off smelling and being disagreeable, should all of a sudden burst out again in that line, and be twice as bad as ever they were at first.’

And on Wednesdays, sometimes, too, when pious people were not satisfied with the Sunday’s devotion, but began again in the middle of the week, the stench was positively horrific.

Indeed, so bad was it, that some of the congregation were forced to leave, and have been seen to slink into Bell-yard, where Lovett’s pie-shop was situated, and then and there relieve themselves with a pork or a veal pie, in order that their mouths and noses should be full of a delightful and agreeable flavour, instead of one most peculiarly and decidedly the reverse.

At last there was a confirmation to be held at St Dunstan’s church, and so great a concourse of persons assembled, for a sermon was to be preached by the bishop, after the confirmation; and a very great fuss indeed was to be made about really nobody knew what.

Preparations, as newspapers say, upon an extensive scale, and regardless of expense, were made for the purpose of adding lustre to the ceremony, and surprising the bishop when he came with a good idea that the authorities of St Dunstan’s church were somebodies and really worth confirming.

The confirmation was to take place at twelve o’clock, and the bells ushered in the morning with their most pious tones, for it was not every day that the authorities of St Dunstan’s succeeded in catching a bishop, and when they did so, they were determined to make the most of him.

And the numerous authorities, including churchwardens, and even the very beadle, were in an uncommon fluster, and running about and impeding each other, as authorities always do upon public occasions.

But of those who only look to the surface of things, and who come to admire what was grand and magnificent in the preparations, the beadle certainly carried away the palm, for that functionary was attired in a completely new cocked hat and coat, and certainly looked very splendid and showy upon the occasion. Moreover, the beadle had been well and judiciously selected, and the parish authorities made no secret of it, when there was an election for beadle, that they threw all their influence into the scale of that candidate who happened to be the biggest, and, consequently, who was calculated to wear the official costume with an air that no smaller man could possibly have aspired to on any account.

At half-past eleven o’clock the bishop made his gracious appearance, and was duly ushered into the vestry, where there was a comfortable fire, and on the table in which, likewise, were certain cold chickens and bottles of rare wines; for confirming a number of people, and preaching a sermon besides, was considered no joke, and might, for all they knew, be provocative of a great appetite in the bishop.

And with a bland and courtly air the bishop smiled as he ascended the steps of St Dunstan’s church. How affable he was to the church-wardens, and he actually smiled upon a poor, miserable charity boy, who, his eyes glaring wide open, and his muffin cap in his hand, was taking his first stare at a real live bishop.

To be sure, the beadle knocked him down directly the bishop had passed, for having the presumption to look at such a great personage, but then that was to be expected fully and completely, and only proved that the proverb which permits a cat to look at a king, is not equally applicable to charity boys and bishops.

When the bishop got to the vestry, some very complimentary words were uttered to him by the usual officiating clergyman, but, somehow or another, the bland smile had left the lips of the great personage, and, interrupting the vicar in the midst of a fine flowing period, he said,-

‘That’s all very well, but what a terrible stink there is here!’

The churchwardens gave a groan, for they had flattered themselves, that perhaps the bishop would not notice the dreadful smell, or that, if he did, he would think it was accidental and say nothing about it; but now, when he really did mention it, they found all their hopes scattered to the winds, and that it was necessary to say something.

‘Is this horrid charnel-house sort of smell always here?’

‘I am afraid it is,’ said one of the churchwardens.

‘Afraid!’ said the bishop, ‘surely you know; you seem to me to have a nose.

‘Yes,’ said the churchwarden, in great confusion, ‘I have that honour, and I have the pleasure of informing you, my lord bishop—I mean I have the honour of informing you, that this smell is always here.’

The bishop sniffed several times, and then he said, ‘It is very dreadful; and I hope that by the next time I come to St Dunstan’ s you will have the pleasure and the honour, both, of informing me that it has gone away.’

The churchwarden bowed, and got into an extreme corner, saying to himself,-

‘This is the bishop’s last visit here, and I don’t wonder at it, for as if out of pure spite, the smell is ten times worse than ever today.’

And so it was, for it seemed to come up through all the crevices of the flooring of the church with a power and perseverance that was positively dreadful.

‘Isn’t it dreadful?—did you ever before know the smell in St Dunstan’s so bad before?’ and everybody agreed that they had never known it anything like so bad, for that it was positively awful—and so indeed it was.

The anxiety of the bishop to get away was quite manifest, and if he could decently have taken his departure without confirming anybody at all, there is no doubt but that he would have willingly done so, and left all the congregation to die and be—something or another.

But this he could not do, but he could cut it short, and he did so. The people found themselves confirmed before they almost knew where they were, and the bishop would not go into the vestry again on any account, but hurried down the steps of the church and into his carriage, with the greatest precipitation in the world, thus proving that holiness is no proof against a most abominable stench.

As may be well supposed, after this, the subject assumed a much more serious aspect, and on the following day a solemn meeting was held of all the church authorities, at which it was determined that men should be employed to make a thorough and searching examination of all the vaults of St Dunstan’s, with the view of discovering, if possible, from whence particularly the abominable stench emanated.

And then it was decided that the stench was to be put down, and that the bishop was to be apprised it was put down, and that he might visit the church in perfect safety.

CHAPTER TWENTY

SWEENEY TODD’S PROCEEDINGS CONSEQUENT UPON THE DEPARTURE OF TOBIAS

We left the barber in his own shop, much wondering that Tobias had not responded to the call which he had made upon him, but yet scarcely believing it possible that he could have ventured upon the height of iniquity, which we know Tobias had really been guilty of.

He paused for a few moments, and held up the light which he had procured and gazed around him with enquiring eyes, for he could, indeed, scarcely believe it possible that Tobias had sufficiently cast off his dread of him, Sweeney Todd, to be enabled to achieve any act for his liberation. But when he saw that the lock of the parlour-door was open, positive rage obtained precedence over every other feeling.

‘The villain!’ he cried, ‘has he dared really to consummate an act I thought he could not have dreamt of for a moment? Is it possible that he can have presumed so far as to have searched the house?’

That Tobias, however, had presumed so far, the barber soon discovered, and when he went into his parlour and saw what had actually occurred, and that likewise the door which led to the staircase and the upper part of the house had not escaped, he got perfectly furious, and it was some time before he could sufficiently calm himself to reflect upon the probable and possible amount of danger he might run in consequence of these proceedings.

When he did, his active mind at once told him that there was not much to be dreaded immediately, for that, most probably, Tobias, still having the fear before his eyes of what he might do as regarded his mother, had actually run away; and, ‘In all likelihood,’ muttered the barber, ‘he has taken with him something which would allow me to fix upon him the stigma of robbery: but that I must see to.’

Having fastened the shop-door securely, he took the light in his hands, and ascended to the upper part of his house—that is to say, to the first floor, where alone anything was to be found.

He saw at once the open bureau with all its glittering display of jewels, and as he gazed upon the heap he muttered,-

‘I have not so accurate a knowledge of what is here, as to be able to say if anything be extracted or not, but I know the amount of money, if I do not know the precise number of jewels which this bureau contains.’

He opened a small drawer which had entirely evaded the scrutiny of Tobias, and proceeded to count a large number of guineas which were there.

‘These are correct,’ he said, when he had finished his examination, ‘these are correct, and he has touched none of them.’

He then opened another drawer, in which were a great many packets of silver done up in paper, and these likewise he carefully counted and was satisfied they were right.

‘It is strange,’ he said, ‘that he has taken nothing, but yet perhaps it is better that it should be so, inasmuch as it shows a wholesome fear of me. The slightest examination would have shown him these hoards of money; and since he has not made that slight examination, nor discovered any of them, it seems to my mind decisive upon the subject, that he has taken nothing, and perchance I shall discover him easier than I imagine.’

He repaired to the parlour again and carefully divested himself of everything which had enabled him so successfully to impose upon John Mundel, and replaced them by his ordinary costume, after which he fastened up his house and sallied forth, taking his way direct to Mrs Ragg’s humble home, in the expectation that there he would hear something of Tobias, which would give him a clue where to search for him, for to search for him he fully intended; but what were his precise intentions perhaps he could hardly have told himself, until he actually found him.

When he reached Mrs Ragg’s house, and made his appearance abruptly before that lady, who seemed somehow or another always to be ironing and always to drop the iron when anyone came in very near their toes, he said,-

‘Where did your son Tobias go after he left you tonight?’

‘Lor! Mr Todd, is it you? you are as good as a conjurer, sir, for he was here; but bless you, sir, I know no more where he is gone to than the man in the moon. He said he was going to sea, but I am sure I should not have thought it,
that
I should not.’

‘To sea! then the probability is that he would go down to the docks, but surely not tonight. Do you not expect him back here to sleep?’

‘Well, sir, that’s a very good thought of yours, and he may come back here to sleep, for all I know to the contrary.’

‘But you do not know it for a fact.’

‘He didn’t say so; but he may come, you know, sir, for all that.’

‘Did he tell you his reason for leaving me?’

‘Indeed no, sir; he really did not, and he seemed to me to be a little bit out of his senses.’

‘Ah! Mrs Ragg,’ said Sweeney Todd, ‘there you have it. From the first moment that he came into my service, I knew and felt confident that he was out of his senses. There was a strangeness of behaviour about him, which soon convinced me of that fact, and I am only anxious about him, in order that some effort may be made to cure him of such a malady, for it is a serious, and a dreadful one, and one which, unless taken in time, will yet be the death of Tobias.’

These words were spoken with such solemn seriousness, that they had a wonderful effect upon Mrs Ragg, who, like most ignorant persons, began immediately to confirm that which she most dreaded.

‘Oh, it’s too true,’ she said, ‘it’s too true. He did say some extraordinary things tonight, Mr Todd, and he said he had something to tell which was too horrid to speak of. Now the idea, you know, Mr Todd, of anybody having anything at all to tell, and not telling it at once, is quite singular.’

‘It is; and I am sure that his conduct is such as you never would be guilty of, Mrs Ragg; but hark! what’s that?’

‘It’s a knock, Mr Todd.’

‘Hush, stop a moment, what if it be Tobias?’

‘Goodness gracious! it can’t be him, for he would have come in at once.’

‘No; I slipped the bolt of the door, because I wished to talk to you without observation; so it may be Tobias you perceive, after all; but let me hide somewhere, so that I may hear what he says, and be able to judge how his mind is affected. I will not hesitate to do something for him, let it cost me what it may.’

‘There’s the cupboard, Mr Todd. To be sure there is some dirty saucepans and a frying-pan in it, and of course it ain’t a fit place to ask you to go into.’

‘Never mind that—never mind that; only you be careful, for the sake of Tobias’s very life, to keep secret that I am here.’

The knocking at the door increased each moment in vehemence, and just as Sweeney Todd had succeeded in getting into the cupboard along with Mrs Ragg’s pots and pans, and thoroughly concealing himself, she opened the door; and, sure enough, Tobias, heated, tired, and looking ghastly pale, staggered into the room.

‘Mother,’ he said, ‘I have taken a new thought, and have come back to you.’

‘Well, I thought you would, Tobias; and a very good thing it is that you have.’