For a brief space, now, in order to connect more closely the events of this narrative, we will leave Sweeney Todd to the perils and chances of the disabled ship, and the storm in the Channel, while we conduct the reader to the society of other persons, in whom it is to be presumed we are largely interested. In the most cheerful room of one of the prettiest houses at Brighton, facing the beach upon the Esplanade, which is unrivalled, was a rather select party.
That party consisted of old and well-tried friends of the reader, and when we announce of whom it was composed, it will be seen that their society is decidedly good.
First of all, there was Ben the beef-eater. Poor Ben had never before been at a sea-coast town, and everything was consequently to him new and strange. Yet he felt amazingly happy, because he was surrounded by those whom he loved with all his heart; and if he had now and then a wandering thought, it was to the animals in the Tower, to whom he was accustomed, and who, no doubt, missed Ben quite as much, if not more, than he missed them.
Then there was Tobias. Yes, Tobias was there, looking so fresh and so well, notwithstanding that he knew Sweeney Todd was at large, that it was quite a congratulation for those who felt that they were his friends to see him. The rest of the party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Ingestrie, and Colonel Jeffrey and his young bride, and Mr. and Mrs. Oakley, so that there was really quite an assemblage in that room.
The colonel holds a letter in his hands, and is speaking, while all eyes are turned upon him.
"Yes," said the colonel, "this letter is from Sir Richard Blunt, and I will read it to you, if you will be so good as to listen to it."
"Oh, yes—yes," said everybody.
"Very well. Here it is, then."
Upon this, the colonel read as follows:—
"Craven Street, London.
"My Dear Colonel,—No news of Todd. We are sparing neither pains nor expense in tracking him; and it is an absolute impossibility that he should escape us long. Accident, I am convinced, much more than any design or luck upon his part, has had the effect as yet of keeping him out of our hands. But I do not think that it would be very difficult to count the time, in hours, between this and the period when he must be dead or a prisoner.
"I hope that all our dear friends with you are quite well, and that they will banish from their minds all fear of the revenge of Todd. Nothing is more improbable than that he should dream of finding his way to the obscure little village where you are. I hope all of you are benefiting much by the health-giving breezes of the ocean.
"With kind regard to all, I am, my dear colonel,
"Yours very truly,
"Richard Blunt."
"Still at large!" said Mark Ingestrie, upon the conclusion of the letter. "So the rascal is still at large?"
"Yes," said the colonel; "but you hear what the magistrate says, that he will soon have him."
"Yes, but that is rather a hope than a certainty."
Tobias changed colour, and Johanna turned to him, saying, in a kind tone—
"Nay, now, Tobias, you have nothing to fear from Todd. Did you not hear what the letter said upon that point?"
"Yes oh, yes!" replied Tobias. "I will fear nothing while you are all so good to me."
"I tell's you what it is," said Ben. "That 'ere fellow is for all the world just like one of the wild beastesses as declines being tamed. We had one once as got away one night, and he swam over the river, you see."
"And did you catch him?" said Tobias.
"After a time, yes. Easy did it."
"Who did it, sir?"
"Easy—It ain't a who. It's a way of doing things. You take it easy, you know."
"Oh, yes, I understand now."
"Well, I went arter the fellow, and traced him up and down the streets on the Surrey side, till I got him into a court where there was no thoroughfare, and then I nabbed him."
"And he did no mischief?"
"None to signify. He settled a couple of old women and five or six children, that was all."
Tobias shuddered, and the colonel said—
"I cannot but be surprised that Sir Richard has not yet found out the retreat of Todd, and my own opinion is that he is dead."
"It is more than probable," said Ingestrie; "I have thought so several times. When he found that there was no hope for him, and that he was in a state of destitution, or something near it, which must be the fact, it is likely enough that he has laid violent hands upon himself, and his body may not be found for a long time."
"Well," said the colonel "let us get out for a stroll upon the beach. It will be dark in another half hour, and as there is no moon to-night, we shall not like to remain out."
They all rose upon this suggestion, but the evening dropped so rapidly, and several black clouds piled themselves up in the sky, that Ingestrie, after stepping out upon the balcony and looking at the weather, came back again, and said—
"You had better remain in, all of you. I have seen enough of the sea, and heard enough of the wind, to prophesy that this will be a rough night in the Channel."
"Will there be a storm, Mark?" said Johanna.
"There will be a very good imitation of one, you may depend, if not a real one."
"If there should be," said the colonel, "you will be rather surprised, for, I can tell you, that a gale off this coast is no joke. You would be truly amazed at the violence with which a regular south-western sets upon this shore."
"I can easily imagine it," said Mark Ingestrie. "See, it darkens every minute, and what an angry look that small cloud right away in the horizon has."
"It has, indeed," said Johanna, as she clung to the arm of her husband. "Do you think, Mark, that any poor souls will be wrecked to-night?"
"Probably enough; but the coast of Suffolk and the Irish Channel will be the worst. It will be child's play here in comparison."
A strange booming noise came across the sea at this moment, and the colonel cried out—
"Is that a gun, or is............