CHAPTER L.

THE DESCENT TO THE VAULTS.

Sir Richard commenced the descent.

"Come on," he said. "Come on."

He got down about half a dozen steps, but finding that no one followed

him he paused, and called out--

"Remember that time is precious. Come on!"

"Why don't you go?" said the churchwarden to the beadle.

"What! Me go afore a blessed churchwarden? Conwulsions--no! I thinks and

I hopes as I knows my place better."

"Well, but upon this occasion, if I don't mind it--"

"No--no, I could not. Conwulsions--no!"

"Ah!" said Sir Richard Blunt. "I see how it is; I shall have to do all

this business alone, and a pretty report I shall have to make to the

Secretary of State about the proceedings of the authorities of St.

Dunstan's."

The churchwarden groaned.

"I'm a coming, Sir Richard--I'm a coming. Oh dear, I tell you what it

is, Mr. Beadle, if you don't follow me, and close too, I'll have you

dismissed as sure as eggs is eggs."

"Conwulsions! conwulsions! I'm a coming."

The churchwarden descended the stairs, and the beadle followed him.

Down--down they went, guided by the dim light of the torch carried by

Sir Richard, who had not waited for them after the last words he had

spoken.

"Can you fetch your blessed breath, sir?" said the beadle.

"Hardly," said the churchwarden, gasping. "It is a dreadful place."

"Oh, yes--yes."

"Stop--Stop. Sir Richard--Sir Richard!"

There was no reply. The light from the torch grew more and more

indistinct as Sir Richard Blunt increased his distance from them, and at

length they were in profound darkness.

"I can't stand this," cried the churchwarden; and he faced about to

ascend to the church again. In his effort to do so quickly, he stretched

out his hand, and seized the beadle by the ancle, and as that personage

was not quite so firm upon his legs as might be desired, the effort of

this sudden assault was to upset him, and he rolled over upon the

churchwarden, with a force that brought them both sprawling to the

bottom of the little staircase together. Luckily they had not far to

fall, for they had not been more than six or eight steps from the foot

of the little flight. Terror and consternation for a few moments

deprived each of them of the power of speech. The beadle, however, was

the first to recover, and he in a stentorian voice called--

"Murder! Murder!"

Then the churchwarden joined in the cries, and they buffeted each other

in vain efforts to rise, each impeding the other to a degree that

rendered it a matter of impossibility for either of them to get to their

feet. Mr. Vickley, who was waiting in the church above, with no small

degree of anxiety, the report from below, heard these sounds of

contention and calls for help with mingled horror. He at once made a

rush to the door of the church, and, no doubt, would have endangered the

success of all Sir Richard Blunt's plans, if he had not been caught in

the arms of a tall stout man upon the very threshold of the church door.

"Help! murder! Who are you?"

"Crotchet they calls me, and Crotchet's my name. London my birth place,

is yourn the same? What's the row?"

"Call a constable. There's blue murder going on in the vaults below."

"The devil there is. Just you get in there, will you, and don't you stir

for your life, old fellow."

So saying, Mr. Crotchet, who knew the importance of secrecy in the whole

transaction, and who had been purposely awaiting for Sir Richard Blunt,

thrust Vickley into a pew, and slammed the door of it shut. Down fell

the overseer to the floor, paralysed with terror; and then Mr. Crotchet

at once proceeded to the opening in the floor of the church, and

descended without a moment's hesitation.

"Hilloa!" he cried, as he alighted at the bottom of the stairs upon the

churchwarden's back. "Hilloa, Sir Richard, where are you?"

"Here," said a voice, and with the torch nearly extinguished, Sir

Richard Blunt made his appearance from the passage. "Who is there?"

"Crotchet, it is."

"Indeed. Why, what brought you here?"

"What a row."

"Why--why, what's all this? You are standing upon somebody. Why bless my

heart it's--"

Out went the torch.

"Fire!--help!--murder!" shouted the beadle, "I'm being suffocated. Oh,

conwulsions! Here's a death for a beadle. Murder! robbery.

Fire--oh--oh--oh."

The churchwarden groaned awfully.

"Ascend, and get a light," said Sir Richard. "Quick, Crotchet, quick!

God only knows what is the matter with all these people."

Both Crotchet and Sir Richard Blunt scrambled over the bodies of the

churchwarden and the beadle, and soon reached the church. The

churchwarden made a desperate effort, and, shaking himself free of the

beadle, he ascended likewise, and rolled into a pew, upon the floor of

which he sat, looking a little deranged.

"If you don't come up," said Sir Richard Blunt, directing his voice down

the staircase, "we will replace the stone, and you may bid adieu to the

world."

"Conwulsions!" roared the beadle. "Oh, don't--conwulsions!"

Up he tumbled, with the most marvellous celerity, and rolled into the

church, never stopping until he was brought up by the steps in front of

the communion-table, and there he lay, panting and glaring around him,

having left his cocked hat in the regions below. Sir Richard Blunt

looked ghastly pale, which Crotchet observing, induced him to take a

small flask from his pocket, filled with choice brandy, which he handed

to his chief.

"Thank you," said Sir Richard.

The magistrate took a draught, and then he handed it to the

churchwarden, as he said--

"I'll fill it again."

"All's right."

The churchwarden took a pull at the brandy, and then the beadle was

allowed to finish it. They were both wonderfully recovered.

"Oh, Sir Richard," said the churchwarden, "what have you seen?"

"Nothing particular."

"Indeed!"

"No. You can have the stone replaced as soon as you like, over the

opening to the vaults."

"And you have seen nothing?" said the beadle.

"Nothing to speak of. If you have any doubts or any curiosity, you can

easily satisfy yourself. There's the opening. Pray descend. You see I

have escaped, so it cannot be very dangerous to do so. I will not myself

go again, but I will wait for either of you, if you please. Now,

gentlemen, go, and you will be able to make your own discoveries."

"Me?" cried the beadle. "Me? Oh, conwulsions! I thinks I sees me."

"Not I," said the churchwarden. "Cover it up--cover it up. I don't want

to go down. I would not do so for a thousand pounds."

A covert smile was upon the lips of Sir Richard Blunt as he heard this,

and he added--

"Very well; I have no objection, of course, to its being at once covered

up; and I think the least that is said about it, will be the better."

"No doubt of that," said the churchwarden.

"Conwulsions! yes," said the beadle. "If I was only quite sure as all my

ribs was whole, I shouldn't mind; but somebody stood a-top of me for a

good quarter of an hour, I'm sure."

Some of the workmen now began to arrive, and Sir Richard Blunt pointed

to them, as he said to the churchwarden--

"Then the stone can be replaced without any difficulty, now; and, sir,

let me again caution you to say nothing about what has passed here

to-day."

"Not a word--not a word. If you fancy somebody stood upon your ribs, Mr.

Beadle, I am quite sure somebody did upon mine."

The workmen were now directed to replace the stone in its former

position; and when that was completely done, and some mortar pressed

into the crevices, Sir Richard Blunt gave a signal to Crotchet to follow

him, and they both left the church together.

"Now, Crotchet, understand me."

"I'll try," said Crotchet.

"No one, for the future, is to be shaved in Sweeney Todd's shop alone."

"Alone?"

"Yes. You will associate with King, Morgan, and Godfrey; I will stand

all necessary expenses, and one or the other of you will always follow

whoever goes into the shop, and there wait until he comes out again.

Make what excuses you like. Manage it how you will; but only remember,

Todd is never again to have a customer all to himself."

"Humph!"

"Why do you say humph?"

"Oh, nothing partickler; only hadn't we better grab him at once?"

"No; he has an accomplice or accomplices, and their discovery is most

important. I don't like to do things by halves, Crotchet; and so long as

I know that no mischief will result from a little delay, and it will

not, if you obey my instructions, I think it better to wait."

"Very good."

"Go at once, then, and get your brother officers, and remember that

nothing is to withdraw your and their attention from this piece of

business."

"All's right. You know, Sir Richard, you have only to say what's to be

done, and it's as good as done. Todd may shave now as many people as he

likes, but I don't think he'll polish 'em off in his old way quite so

easy."

"That's right. Good day."

"When shall we see you, Sir Richard?" "About sunset."

By the time this little conversation was over, Sir Richard Blunt and

Crotchet had got through Temple Bar, and then they parted, Crotchet

taking his way back to Fleet Street, and Sir Richard Blunt walking

hastily to Downing Street. When he got there he entered the official

residence of the Secretary of State for the Home Department, and being

well known to the clerk, he was at once conducted into a little room

carefully hung round with crimson cloth, so as to deaden the sound of

any voices that might be raised in it. In the course of a few minutes a

small door was opened, and a shabby looking man entered, with a

hesitating expression upon his face.

"Ah, Sir Richard Blunt," he said, "is that you?"

"Yes, your lordship, and if you are disengaged for a few minutes, I have

something to communicate."

"Ah, some new plot. Confound those Jacobin rascals!"

"No, my lord, the affair is quite domestic and social. It has no shade

of politics about it."

The look of interest which the face of the secretary had assumed was

gone in a moment, but still he could not very well refuse now to hear

what Sir Richard Blunt had to say, and the conference lasted a quarter

of an hour. At its termination, as Sir Richard was leaving the room, the

secretary said--

"Oh, yes, of course, take full discretionary powers, and the Home-office

will pay all expenses. I never heard of such a thing in all my life."

"Nor I, my lord."

"It's really horrible."

"It is even so far as we know already, and yet I think there is much to

learn. I shall, of course, communicate to your lordship anything that

transpires."

"Certainly--certainly. Good day."

Sir Richard Blunt left the Secretary of State, and proceeded to his own

residence, and while he is there, making some alteration in his dress,

we may as well take a glance at Crotchet, and see what that energetic

but somewhat eccentric individual is about. After parting with Sir

Richard Blunt at Temple Bar, he walked up Fleet Street, upon Sweeney

Todd's side of the way, until he overtook a man with a pair of

spectacles on, and a stoop in his gait, as though age had crept upon

him.

"King," said Crotchet.

"All right," said the spectacled old gentleman in a firm voice. "What's

the news?"

"A long job, I think. Where's Morgan?"

"On the other side of the way."

"Well, just listen to me as we walk along, and if you see him, beckon

him over to us."

As they walked along Crotchet told King what were the orders of Sir

Richard Blunt, and they were soon joined by Morgan. The other officer,

Godfrey, who had been mentioned by the magistrate, was sent for.

"Now," said Crotchet, "here we are, four of us, and so you see we can

take it two and two for four hours at a stretch as long as this

confounded barber's shop keeps open."

"But," said Morgan, "he will suspect something."

"Well, we can't help that. It's quite clear he smugs the people, and all

we have got to do is to prevent him smugging any more of 'em you see."

"Well, well, we must do the best we can."

"Exactly; so now keep a bright look out, and hang it all, we have been

in enough rum adventures to be able to get the better of a rascally

barber, I should think. Look out--look out; there's somebody going in

now."