CHAPTER XCVII.

THE ATTEMPTED MURDER ON THE THAMES.

The boat that followed Todd did not, after a time, keep quite in the

wake of the one containing him and Mrs. Lovett. It rather went on a line

parallel to it, but it kept at a convenient distance; and there were

those in that boat, who never took an eye off Todd and his female

accomplice.

It must not be for one moment supposed that Mrs. Lovett was quite

deceived by Todd's representations concerning the money; but then it

must be considered that, with all her cunning, that lady was in a very

difficult position indeed--one that it was impossible to change for the

better.

If she had boldly told Todd that she doubted--nay, that she absolutely

disbelieved all that he said about the money being lodged with a firm in

the city, she gained nothing, but simply placed herself in a position

that forced upon her some violent action.

What that action could be would have been Mrs. Lovett's great

difficulty. Of course she would have had no trouble in the world in

going at once to a police-office, and denouncing Todd. That, to be sure,

would have been a great revenge; but then, in the midst of all her

anger, she did not forget that by so doing she had to criminate herself,

and from that moment put an end to all her dreams of revelling in some

foreign land upon the produce of her crimes.

Situated, then, as she was, Mrs. Lovett felt that she had no sort of

resource but to follow Todd up, as it were--to keep close to him, and

partly to worry him, and partly to shame him into doing her justice.

Well she knew that he was upon the point of fleeing from the scene of

his iniquities; and well she knew what a hindrance it would be to his

arrangements to have her at his elbow continually.

And so she thought that he would see it was better to pay her, and be

rid of her, and so every one would have thought; but Todd's nature was

of that mad implacable character, that anything in the shape of

opposition only made a wish a passion.

"I will not pay her," he muttered to himself, "if my refusal so to do

brings us both to the gallows!"

If Mrs. Lovett could have dived sufficiently deep into Todd's mind to be

aware of this sentiment, she might have changed her tactics; but who

could have thought it? Who could have supposed that any passion but

self-preservation could master all others in his mind?

The two boats sped on towards London Bridge--not the elegant structure

that now spans the Thames, but the previous one, with its narrow arches,

and its dangerous fall of water when the tide was ebbing, which was the

case upon this occasion.

The watermen looked uneasily at the arch through which it would be

necessary to go, and where the tide was raging with unexampled fury, and

lashing the sides of the arch like a mill-stream, bearing upon its

surface millions of bubbles, and making such a seething roaring sound,

that it was a point of attraction to some idle chance passengers upon

the bridge to watch any adventurous wherry as it shot through the

dangerous passage.

"A rough tide, Bill," growled one of the watermen.

"Ay," said the other. "Do you want to go through the bridge, master?"

Todd smiled grimly as he replied by asking a question.

"Is it dangerous?"

"Why, you see, master, it may be or it may not. But we are not the sort

to say no, if a fare says as he wants to go through the bridge. To be

sure there be times when there is a squall upon the river, and then any

man may say no."

"But that is not now," said Todd.

"No, master, that is not now, so if you must go through the bridge, only

say so, and through we go. We have been lots o' times when it's as bad,

ay, and perhaps a trifle waser than it is now. Haven't we, Bill?"

"Ay, ay."

"If," said Todd, "the lady has no particular objection."

"Can we not land upon this side of the bridge?" said Mrs. Lovett.

"In course, ma'am," said one of the boatmen. "In course, ma'am."

"But," added Todd hastily, "we must, then, until to-morrow, abandon the

business upon which we came, as landing upon this side of the bridge

will not suit me by any means."

"Pass through," cried Mrs. Lovett sternly. "I for one will not abandon

the business upon which I came, except with my life. It is more than

life to me, and I will go upon it, let it lead me where it may."

"And I," said Todd, in a voice of great indifference, "I, too, am of

precisely that opinion. So through the bridge we must go at any risk, if

you, my men, will take us."

"Pull away. Bill," was the only reply of the waterman. "Pull away, Bill,

and keep her steady. On we go."

By this time a curious throng of persons had assembled on the bridge to

watch the wherry, for previous to its approach two others had declined

the dangerous passage of the arch, and had landed their passengers at a

small stairs some distance from the strong eddying current that leaped

and bubbled through the arch. It was therefore something of a treat for

the crowd to see their boat make for the dreaded spot, an evident

determination on the part of the rowers to shoot through the arch of the

bridge if it were possible so to do.

No one spoke on board the boat. The watermen pulled very steady into the

current, keeping over their shoulders a wary eye upon the head of the

boat. Todd's eyes gleamed like two coals of fire, and Mrs. Lovett was as

pale as death itself.

Perhaps at that moment she reflected that she had trusted herself with

all her sins on board that little boat amid the wild rush of waters; but

if she did, she said nothing. Neither by word nor by action did she give

indication of the fear that was tugging at her heart.

And now the little wherry was floating in the boiling surge that flew

towards the arch, and made when it got there such a battle to get

through. There was no occasion for pulling. The only good they could now

do with their oars was to steady the little craft, and so far as was

possible to keep her head to the current.

That this was done by the two watermen with admirable and practised

skill, every one who watched the progress of the party from the bridge

or elsewhere could perceive; and now the critical moment was at hand,

and the boat being caught like a reed, was swept under the bridge by the

rapid current.

"Easy, Bill," cried one of the men.

"Easy it is," said the other.

"You will upset us, my dear madam," said Todd, "if you move;" and then,

while the two men were fully engaged with the boat, and by far too much

occupied with the necessary movements for the preservation of themselves

and their little craft, Todd, with one blow upon the head, struck Mrs.

Lovett overboard.

She uttered a piercing shriek.

"What's that?--what's that?" cried the boatmen.

The boat scraped against the side of the arch for a moment, and then

shot through it with a terrific bound into the comparatively still water

on the other side of the bridge.

"I'm afraid," said Todd, "that the lady has fallen overboard."

"Afraid!" cried one of the watermen. "Why, good God! don't you see she

has; and there she goes, along with the stream. Pull away, Bill; don't

you see her? There she goes!"

"Alas, poor thing!" said Todd.

[Illustration: Old London Bridge.--Todd Tries His Murderous Hand On Mrs.

Lovett.]

He affected to be overcome by his feelings, and to be compelled to rest

his head upon his hands, while he kept his hot-looking blood-shot eyes

fixed upon the form of Mrs. Lovett in the water.

And now a scene ensued of deep interest to Todd--a scene which he

watched with the greatest attention. It was a scene upon the issue of

which he felt that his life depended.

If Mrs. Lovett were saved, his life would not be worth an hour's

purchase. If she were drowned, he was, so he fancied, a free man; and he

saw that from the shore several boats put off after her, while the two

men in his wherry pulled as though their lives depended upon hers.

Todd could have struck them for the exertions that they were making, but

he dared not even speak one deprecating word to make them pause. He was

condemned only to watch what was going on; and truly a most interesting

scene it was.

Mrs. Lovett had on a large cloak, and it was by the aid of that, as well

as by the strength of the current, that she floated so long as to make

it quite remarkable, and to induce the opinion in the minds of some of

the spectators that she was swimming.

Suddenly, just as a boat that had put off from the stairs by the Custom

House reached her, down she went.

"Gone!" said Todd.

"Yes, she's gone," said one of the watermen. "She's gone, poor thing,

whoever she was, and no one will get her now."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Ah, master, as sure as may be; but you are a witness that it was no

fault of ours, master."

"Certainly," said Todd. "The fact is, that she got alarmed the moment

the boat shot under the arch, and rose up. I tried to catch her, but she

toppled over into the water."

"Natural enough, sir. If she did get up, over she was sure to go. Did

you hear what a shriek she gave, Bill? My eye, if I don't dream of that,

I'm a Dutchman! I fancy it is ringing in my ears. Yet I have heard a few

odd sounds on the river in my time, but that was the very worst."

"And she is gone," said Todd. "Why does that boat linger there upon the

spot where she went down? Stay--stay, I cannot see if you pull into

shore so quick. Now that barge is between me and the boat."

"There's nothing to see now, sir."

"Well--well. That will do--that will do. Poor creature! Viewing it in

one way, my friends, it's a happy release, for she was a little touched

in her intellect, poor thing; but it's dreadful to lose one to whom you

are much attached; notwithstanding, I shall shed many a tear over her

loss, and of the two I had really much rather it had been myself. Alas!

alas! you see how deeply affected I am!"

"It's no use grieving, sir."

"Not a whit--not a whit. I know that, but I can't help it. Take that and

divide it between you. I give it to you as a kind of assurance that it

is not your fault the poor thing fell overboard."

"Thank your honour," said the man in whose huge palm Todd had placed a

guinea. "We may be asked who you are possibly, sir, if the body should

be found."

"Oh, certainly--certainly," said Todd, "that is well thought of. I am

the Rev. Silas Mugginthorpe, preacher at the new chapel in Little

Britain. Will you remember?"

"Oh, yes sir. All's right."

Todd ascended the slippery steps of the little landing-place with an

awfully demoniac chuckle upon his face, and when he reached the top of

them he struck his breast with his clenched hand, as he said in a voice

of fierce glee--

"'Tis done--'tis done. Ha, ha, ha! 'Tis done. Why, Mrs. Lovett, you have

surely been singularly indiscreet to-day. Ha, ha! Food for fishes, if

fishes can live in the Thames. Ha, ha! Farewell, Mrs. Lovett, a long

farewell to you. So--so you thought, did you, to get the better of

Sweeney Todd? To stick to him like a bear until he should be compelled

to, what you called, settle with you? Well, he has settled with you--he

has! Ha, ha!"

Thus in wild ferocious glee did Todd walk through the city back to his

own house after perpetrating this the worst murder, if there can be at

all degrees in murder, that he had ever done. People got out of his way

as they heard his wild demoniac laugh, and many, after one glance at his

awful face, crossed over to the other side of the street with

precipitation.

"Good-day, Mrs. Lovett," he kept muttering. "A charming day, Mrs.

Lovett, and charmingly you look to-day, only a little swelled and

bloated with the water. You wish me to settle with you? Oh, of course, I

will settle with you before we part. Ha, ha!"

Todd had never been so thoroughly pleased in all his life. More than

once he stopped in the street to laugh, and twice on his route he called

at noted hostels in the city to refresh himself with a glass of

something strong and hot. He fancied that he wore upon his countenance

quite an amiable aspect, and if one can fancy the devil himself looking

sentimental, or an ogre looking religious and humane, we may have some

sort of mixed idea of how Todd looked when he was amiable.

In this blissful condition he reached Fleet Street, and just as he

crossed the way from Ludgate Hill to the top of Fleet Market he was

accosted by a miserable-looking woman in widow's weeds, with a girl in

one hand and a boy in the other. They were begging, that was evident,

for each of the children, and genteel pleasant-looking children they

were, although now dejected by destitution, had upon its breast a little

written paper with the one word, "Want" upon it. That word ought to have

been sufficient to unlock the hearts of the passers by, and yet how the

crowd hurried on!

[Illustration: The Widow Asks For Charity Of Her Husband's

Murderer--Todd.]

"Oh, Mr. Todd," said the woman, "can you spare a trifle for the little

ones?"

"Who are you," he said, "that you address me by my name, woman?"

"My name is Cummins, sir. Don't you recollect how my poor husband, John

Cummins, went out one day about a month ago, to carry the watch-cases he

had to polish to his employers, saying that he would call at your shop

and be shaved before he went into the city, and didn't call, sir, as you

kindly told me, but has never been heard of since? The city people will

have it that he ran away; but ah, sir, I know him better. Would he run

away from me and from those that he loved so well? Oh, no--no--no, I

know John better."