CHAPTER XIV.

TOBIAS'S THREAT, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

Perhaps one of the most pitiable objects now in our history is poor

Tobias, Sweeney Todd's boy, who certainly had his suspicions aroused in

the most terrific manner, but who was terrified, by the threats of what

the barber was capable of doing against his mother, from making any

disclosures. The effect upon his personal appearance of this wear and

tear of his intellect was striking and manifest. The hue of youth and

health entirely departed from his cheeks, and he looked so sad and

careworn, that it was quite a terrible thing to look upon a young lad

so, as it were, upon the threshold of existence, and in whom anxious

thoughts were making such war upon the physical energies. His cheeks

were pale and sunken; his eyes had an unnatural brightness about them,

and, to look upon his lips, one would think they had never parted in a

smile for many a day, so sadly were they compressed together. He seemed

ever to be watching likewise for something fearful, and even as he

walked the streets he would frequently turn and look inquiringly around

him with a shudder; and in his brief interview with Colonel Jeffery and

his friend the captain, we can have a tolerably good comprehension of

the state of his mind. Oppressed with fears, and all sorts of dreadful

thoughts, panting to give utterance to what he knew and to what he

suspected, yet terrified into silence for his mother's sake, we cannot

but view him as signally entitled to the sympathy of the reader, and as,

in all respects, one sincerely to be pitied for the cruel circumstances

in which he was placed. The sun is shining brightly, and even that busy

region of trade and commerce, Fleet-street, is looking gay and

beautiful; but not for that poor spirit-stricken lad are any of the

sights and sounds which used to make up the delight of his existence,

reaching his eyes or ears now with their accustomed force. He sits moody

and alone, and in the position which he always assumes when Sweeney Todd

is from home--that is to say, with his head resting on his hands, and

looking the picture of melancholy abstraction.

"What shall I do?" he said to himself, "what will become of me? I think

if I live here any longer, I shall go out of my senses. Sweeney Todd is

a murderer--I am quite certain of it, and I wish to say so, but I dare

not for my mother's sake. Alas! alas! the end of it will be, that he

will kill me, or that I shall go out of my senses, and then I shall die

in some mad-house, and no one will care what I say."

The boy wept bitterly after he had uttered these melancholy reflections,

and he felt his tears something of a relief to him, so that he looked up

after a little time, and glanced around him.

"What a strange thing," he said, "that people should come into this

shop, to my certain knowledge, who never go out of it again, and yet

what becomes of them I cannot tell."

He looked with a shuddering anxiety towards the parlour, the door of

which Sweeney Todd took care to lock always when he left the place, and

he thought that he should like much to have a thorough examination of

that room.

"I have been in it," he said, "and it seems full of cupboards and

strange holes and corners, such as I never saw before, and there is an

odd stench in it that I cannot make out at all; but it's out of the

question thinking of ever being in it above a few minutes at a time, for

Sweeney Todd takes good care of that."

The boy rose, and opened a small cupboard that was in the shop. It was

perfectly empty.

"Now, that's strange," he said, "there was a walking-stick with an ivory

top to it here just before he went out, and I could swear it belonged to

a man who came in to be shaved. More than once--ah! and more than twice,

too, when I have come in suddenly, I have seen people's hats, and

Sweeney Todd would try and make me believe that people go away after

being shaved, and leave their hats behind them."

He walked up to the shaving chair as it was called, which was a large,

old-fashioned piece of furniture, made of oak, and carved; and, as the

boy threw himself into it, he said--

"What an odd thing it is that this chair is screwed so tight to the

floor! Here is a complete fixture, and Sweeney Todd says it is so

because it's in the best possible light, and if he were not to make it

fast in such a way, the customers would shift it about from place to

place, so that he could not conveniently shave them; it may be true, but

I don't know."

"And you have your doubts," said the voice of Sweeney Todd, as that

individual, with a noiseless step, walked into the shop--"you have your

doubts, Tobias? I shall have to cut your throat, that is quite clear."

[Illustration: Tobias Alarmed At The Mysterious Appearance Of Todd.]

"No, no, have mercy upon me; I did not mean what I said."

"Then it's uncommonly imprudent to say it, Tobias. Do you remember our

last conversation? Do you remember that I can hang your mother when I

please, because, if you do not, I beg to put you in mind of that

pleasant little circumstance?"

"I cannot forget--I do not forget."

"'Tis well; and mark me, I will not have you assume such an aspect as

you wear when I am not here. You don't look cheerful, Tobias; and,

notwithstanding your excellent situation, with little to do, and the

number of Lovett's pies you eat, you fall away."

"I cannot help it," said Tobias, "since you told me what you did

concerning my mother. I have been so anxious that I cannot help--"

"Why should you be anxious? Her preservation depends upon yourself, and

upon yourself wholly. You have but to keep silent, and she is safe; but

if you utter one word that shall be displeasing to me about my affairs,

mark me, Tobias, she comes to the scaffold; and if I cannot conveniently

place you in the same mad-house where the last boy I had was placed, I

shall certainly be under the troublesome necessity of cutting your

throat."

"I will be silent--I will say nothing, Mr. Todd. I know I shall die

soon, and then you will get rid of me altogether, and I don't care how

soon that may be, for I am quite weary of my life--I shall be glad when

it is over."

"Very good," said the barber; "that's all a matter of taste. And now,

Tobias, I desire that you look cheerful and smile, for a gentleman is

outside feeling his chin with his hand, and thinking he may as well come

in and be shaved. I may want you, Tobias, to go to Billingsgate, and

bring me a pennyworth of shrimps."

"Yes," thought Tobias, with a groan--"yes, while you murder him."