CHAPTER CL.

TODD SETS FIRE TO HIS HOUSE, AND THEN HIDES IN THE CHURCH.

Immediately beneath the parlour, where a portion of the cellar went,

there was a quantity of old lumber. Perhaps if that lumber had been

looked very carefully over, among it there might have been found some

fragments of old, and some of new coffins from St. Dunstan's; for with

the rich, who had vaults of their own, it was the arrogant fashion to

adorn the last sad and narrow home of humanity with silver plates and

nails; and Todd had despoiled the grave of some of those costly

trappings.

Upon the heap of rubbish he scrambled, and that just enabled him

comfortably to reach the floor of that parlour. That portion of the

floor went under a cupboard in one corner, and in the floor of it three

or four coarse round holes had been drilled with a centre-bit. Todd had

had his own motives for drilling those holes in the cupboard floor.

He now put his finger through one of the holes, and when he did so, he

gave a chuckle of delight, for he was convinced that the contents of

that cupboard had not been in any way interfered with; and that, as a

consequence, he should find no difficulty in firing the house

completely.

"So," he said, "this is the cleverness of your much-vaunted Sir Richard

Blunt. He has left a cupboard as crammed with combustible materials as

it well can be, to the mercy of the first accident that may set fire to

them; and now the accident has come. Ha!"

Again Todd listened attentively, and was still further satisfied that

all was profoundly still in the parlour, although he heard the racket

and the banging of doors in the upper part of the house.

"This is good," said Todd. "This is capital. All is well now. The fire

will have made most excellent progress before they will discover it, and

I will warrant that if once it takes a firm hold of the wood-work of

this old house, it is not a trifle that will stop its roaring progress."

With this, Todd ignited one of his matches and thrust it alight through

one of the holes in the floor of the cupboard.

A slight cracking noise ensued immediately.

"That will do," said Todd, and he withdrew the match and cast it upon

the ground. The crackling noise continued. He turned and fled from the

place with precipitation.

In the lower portion of that cupboard there was a quantity of hay, upon

which oil and turpentine had been poured liberally. High up upon a shelf

was a wooden bowl, with eight pounds of gunpowder in it, and Todd did

not know a moment when the flames might reach it, when a terrific

explosion would be sure to ensue.

"It is done now," he said. "It is done, and they do not know it. More

revenge--more revenge! I shall have more revenge now, and there will be

more death."

He knew that there was only one thing that could by any possibility

prevent the gunpowder in the wooden bowl from becoming speedily ignited,

and that that would be in consequence of the hay being packed too close

to do more than smoulder for a little time before bursting into a flame;

but that it must and would do so eventually, there could be no possible

doubt, and it was in that hearty conviction that Sweeney Todd now most

fully gloried.

And now, as he had done before, he kept his arms outstretched before him

to prevent him from injuring himself against any of the walls or the

abrupt turnings in the passages between his own house and old St.

Dunstan's. He stooped, likewise, in order that he might not strike his

head against the roof at in places where it was very low, and rough, and

rugged.

Once only Todd got a little bewildered, and did not well know his way,

and then he ignited one of the matches, and by its small light he saw in

a moment which way he was to go.

"All is well," he said, and he rushed on; but yet he began to be a

little surprised that he heard no noise from the house--no sound of the

explosion; and inclining his ear to the ground, he stopped in one of the

old vaults to listen.

A low moaning sound came upon his ears like the muttering of distant

thunder, and then a report as though some heavy piece of timber had

fallen from a great height to the earth. He fancied that the vault in

which he was shook a little, and in terror he rushed forward. The

gunpowder had exploded in the cupboard, and Todd's imagination was left

to revel in the thought of the mischief which it had done to the house

and to all within it.

In five minutes more he reached the foot of the little flight of

stone-steps that led to the church. All was profoundly dark still, as he

thought; but he had not got up above six of those steps when he became

conscious that the light of early dawn had already found its way through

the windows of the church, and was making everything within it dimly

visible. Todd recoiled at this. He and daylight were decidedly not upon

good terms with each other by any means.

"It is morning--it is morning!" he exclaimed. "What will become of me

now? It is light."

He staggered right back into the vaults again, and there gave himself to

painful thought for awhile; as he did so, he heard loud shouts in the

streets--shouts that awakened echoes in the old church; and if anything

could have given to Todd, at such a time as that, very great

satisfaction, it was to hear that those shouts were all commingled with

the one prevailing cry of--"Fire--fire--fire!" That was a joy, indeed,

to him.

"It burns--it burns!" he said; "but I am here a prisoner; I dare not go

out into the daylight; but the old house, with all that it contains, is

wrapped in flames, and that is much--much! It is now everything. Oh,

that I could hear the cries of those who find themselves wrapped up in

the unappeasable element, and have no means of escape! They would,

indeed, be music to my ears."

This state of mental exultation passed away very quickly, as it was sure

to do, and gave place to the most lively fears for his own personal

safety; for, after all, that was the great thing with Todd--at least it

was while any portion of his deep revenges remained yet to be

accomplished.

"What shall I do?" That was the question that he kept repeating to

himself. "What shall I do?" He advanced now right up the steps into the

body of the church. There, at least, he knew that he was safe for the

present; and as he stood and listened, he thought that in the bustle and

in the confusion that men's minds were in regarding the fire, he might

emerge from the church and no one notice him, and fairly get away

without observation. If he only got a few streets off it would be

sufficient, and he should be able to tell himself that he had indeed and

in truth escaped.

With these thoughts and feelings, he approached the church door.

The nearer he got to the old doors of St. Dunstan, the more appallingly

and distinctly there came upon his ears the cries and the shouts of the

people who were hurrying to the fire, and he muttered to himself--

"Ah, it must be blazing briskly now--very briskly. It must be quite a

sight to the whole of London to see the old den burning so bravely."

An engine came rattling on, and with a roar and a crash went past the

church door.

"Capital!" said Todd. "Upon my word this is capital!"

Another engine, with the horses at a mad gallop, went by, and Todd quite

rubbed his hands at the idea of the scene of confusion that he had by

his own unaided efforts succeed in making in old Fleet Street.

"They did not think," he said, "when they closed the gates of the old

prison upon me, and told me I should die, that there was one half the

mischief in me yet that they now find there is. Ay, and there is much

more yet, that they dream not of, but which they shall know some day."

He laid his hand upon the lock of the church door. A long ray of the

faint early gray light of dawn streamed through the massive keyhole, and

at the moment Todd laid his hand upon the lock that ray of light

vanished. It was obstructed by some one on the outside. He recoiled

several steps, and then from the outside he heard a voice say--

"Lor bless us, yes, it's that old villain Todd's house, gentlemen, in

course. It's come to a bad end, like its master will come to, if he

hasn't. When I saw the flames and heard 'em a-roaring, I said to my

missus 'Conwulsions!' says I, 'if that ain't Todd's house in a blaze.'"

"You are right, Mr. Beadle," said a voice in reply.

"Yes, gentlemen, perhaps I says it as oughtn't to say it, but I is

commonly right in my way, you know, gentlemen; and so, as I says,

'Conwulsions! It's Todd's house a fire.'"

"And you think," said another voice, "we shall get a good view of it

from the old church tower?"

"Yes, gentlemen," replied the beadle, whom the reader will not fail to

recognise as our old acquaintance. "Yes, gentlemen. I'll warrant as you

will get a capital view from the top of the old tower, where I will take

you. Lor a _mussy_, how it is a _roorin_, that fire! I know'd it was

Todd's house, and I said to my missus, 'Conwulsions!' says I, 'that's

old villanous Todd's house a-fire!'"

Todd ground his teeth together with rage as he listened to this; but he

felt that if he would provide for his own safety, there was indeed now

no time to lose, and he rapidly retreated into the body of the church.

His first thought was to hide himself in one of the pews, but the

divisions between them were not so high as to prevent a person of very

moderate height indeed from looking over one of them, and there was

quite light enough now for any one in such a case to have seen him, if

they had chosen to glance into the pew in which he might take shelter.

The case was urgent, however, and he had not much time for thought, so

being close to the pulpit he ran up its steps, opened the little door,

and ensconced himself within it in a moment.

There, at all events, he felt that he was hidden securely from any

merely casual observation.

The church door was opened almost before he could get the pulpit door

shut; but he did manage to close it, and he was satisfied that he had

done so without exciting the attention of those who were entering the

church. Todd could, of course, from where he was, hear, with the

greatest clearness and precision, every word that they said to each

other, as they walked up the aisle.

[Illustration: Todd Sets Fire To His House, Then Hides Himself In St.

Dunstan's Pulpit.]

One of the persons who were coming with the beadle to view the fire from

the tower of the church went on speaking to his companions.

"And so," he said, "I think, if no one be hurt, and the fire can be kept

just within the limits of Todd's house, it will be no bad thing to have

a place that is such a continual reminder of atrocious guilt, swept from

the face of the earth."

"Yes," said the other, "the only pity is, that Sweeney Todd is not in it

to go with it. Then the good thing would be complete."

"It would, gentlemen," said the beadle. "Oh, when you comes to think of

what he did and what he might have done--Oh, it makes my hair stand o'

end, and my parochial blood curdle, to think of what he might have done,

gentlemen."

"He could not do worse than he did."

"Not _wus_? not _wus_? Oh,--oh!"

"How is it possible? He committed a number of murders, and if you can

find me anything worse he could have done, I shall indeed be very much

surprised."

"Gentlemen, he might have polished _me_ off. That's what he might have

done, for he has actually had me hold of by the nose. Oh, conwulsions!

if I had only then thought that there was a chance of his polishing off,

as he used to call it, a parochial authority, I should have--I should

have--"

"What, Mr. Beadle?"

"_Flewed_ through the window, sir, that's what I should have done, and

told the world at large what had happened."

"Well, certainly, that would have been something."

"Everything," said the other gentleman, in a tone of voice that showed

how much he was inclined to enjoy a joke at the expense of the beadle.

"It would have been everything. But how plain you can hear the roaring

of the flames now, even in this church, with the door shut."

"You can, indeed," said the other. "Ah, there dashes past another

engine. Come, Mr. Beadle, the sooner we get on this tower the better."

"In a minute, gentlemen; but now as you is here arter the blessed old

church has been shut up all night, I jest ask you to say if it has the

_orrid_ smell as it used to have, which offended the holy nose of the

bishop when he came to confirm the people."

"I smell nothing."

"Nor I."

"Very good; then that's so far satisfactory. Cos you see, sirs, only

yesterday Sir Christopher Wren and two gentlemen come and left in the

church a pailful of chemists, for the express purpose of taking away the

smell."

"A what?"

"A pailful of chemists."

"Of chemicals, you mean, I suppose, although that would be a singularly

inappropriate term. But come on, Mr. Beadle, we are very anxious to get

on the tower."

"This way, gentlemen, if you pleases. This will lead you nicely and

fairly up those little stairs and right on. Oh, what a world we does

live in, to be sure!"

With this general philosophical remark, the beadle, opening a little

door at the extremity of the south aisle, pushed his friends up a narrow

staircase that led to the top of the tower of old St. Dunstan's, and

from which certainly a very good view of the surrounding streets and of

the Temple could be obtained; and in the clear light of early morning,

before the million fires in London were lighted, that view was seen to

be a tolerably distinct one.

Todd muttered the bitterest maledictions upon them, as he heard them go

up the little stairs.

There he was, certainly, to all appearance, safe enough; and he might,

for all he knew, be safe enough until the next Sunday; but how was he to

live in a pulpit even for the whole of a day? It might be that he would

have to wait there until the dim shadows of the night should come again,

and wrap up the whole church in gloom; but how many weary hours must

pass before that time would come, and what infinite danger there was,

that he might drop into sleep after all his fatigues, and so forget his

caution, and discover himself!

Already the great fatigues he had passed through, and the many hours he

had been debarred from rest, began to tell upon him; and it was with

difficulty that he kept himself from dropping into slumber. He began to

get fearfully alarmed at his situation.

"What shall I do?" he said, "I must escape--escape! Yes. How the fire

roars! I will not sleep. Oh, no--no! It is done now; the old house is

gone--gone!"

Todd fell fast asleep in the pulpit.