"Yes," he said, "yes, I am indeed alone now--a wreck--a straw upon the
ocean of society. The sooner I drift in the grave now, the better for
me, and all who pity the old man. Oh, Johanna--Johanna. My child--my
beautiful, why did you not wait until I was dead before you left me? Then I should have slept calmly, and known nothing; but now my days and
nights will be dreams of horror." The door opened and the aunt re-appeared. "Arabella is not within," she said, "and has not been seen for some
hours now. When last seen her manner was evidently perturbed. But now,
Mr. Oakley, sit down by me and tell me as clearly and as distinctly, all
you know and all you fear. There are few evils in this world but there
are some remedies for, and you shall have my true and calm opinion if
you will tell me all." It is something astonishing, and yet one of the most ordinary of mental
phenomena, to note what a power a cool and clear intellect will exert
over one that is distracted and full of woe and clamorous grief. Mr.
Oakley did sit down by the side of Arabella's aunt, and he told her all
that happened the girl of which, of course, was the real or supposed
appearance of Johanna in Fleet Street, in male attire. The collateral
circumstances, such as the hurried and half frantic farewell of him in
the shop by Johanna, and the misrepresentation by Arabella, that she
(Johanna) was going to stop there, evidently made a deep impression upon
the aunt. Her countenance changed visibly, as she said faintly--

"God help us all." "Lost! lost," cried Oakley. "Yes, you--even you, hopeful as you were,
and hopeful as you would fain have made me--even you, now that you know
all, feel that she is lost. God, indeed, only can help me now." "No, Mr. Oakley," said the aunt, rallying, "I will not yet trust to
appearances, although I own that they are bad. I will come to no
conclusion until I have seen Arabella, and got the truth from her. It is
quite clear that there is some secret between the two young creatures. It is quite clear that there is something going on that we know nothing
of, and to speculate upon which may only involve us in an inextricable
labyrinth of conjectures. I say, there is some secret, but it may not be
a guilty one." "Not--not guilty?" "No, Mr. Oakley, there are many degrees of indiscretion to pass through
ere the gulf of guilt is reached at last. I have faith in Arabella--I
have faith in Johanna; and even now, admitting for a moment the truth of
what that man whom you brought with you here, reports, Johanna may only
have to be blamed for folly." "Do--do you think he did so see her?" "I doubt it much." "Mother," said a lad of fifteen, coming hastily into the room. "Mother
I--"

He paused upon seeing Mr. Oakley there, and stammered out some apology--

"He had only come to tell his mother that a whole suit of his clothes
were missing from his room and that he could find them nowhere, and he
could not make it out; and one of his hats was gone too, and a pair of
shoes, and--"

Old Oakley fell back in his chair with a groan. "She has them," he said. "She has them. My child, whom I shall never see
again, has them." CHAPTER XC. MORNING IN FLEET STREET AGAIN. Another day has dawned upon the great city--another sun has risen upon
the iniquities of hosts of men, but upon no amount of cold-blooded,
hardened, pitiless criminality that could come near to that of Sweeney
Todd. No, he certainly held the position of being in London, then, the
worst of the worst. But who shall take upon himself now to say that in this pest-ridden,
loyalty-mad, abuse-loving city of London, there are not some who are
more than even Sweeney Todd's equals? Who shall say that hidden scenes
of guilt and horror are not transacting all around us, that would, in
their black iniquity, far transcend anything that Sweeney Todd has done
or dreamt of doing? Let the imagination run riot in its fanciful
conjectures of what human nature is capable of, and in London there
shall be found those who will reduce to practice the worst frenzied
deeds that can be conceived. Yes, the dawn of another day had come, and Todd had made all his
preparations. Nothing was wanting, but the match that was to set Fleet
Street, he fondly hoped, in a blaze. His own house, he felt quite
certain, could not escape. It would be a charred mass long before any
effectual means could be procured to check the devastation of the
flames, and then as the good ship spread its swelling sails to the wind
to bear him to another shore, he should be lighted upon his way by the
glare of the great fire in Fleet Street, that no one would be able to
guess the origin of. So he told himself. Short-sighted mortals that we are! How little Todd, with all his
cleverness--all his far-seeing thrift and fancy--dreamt of the volcano
upon which he stood. How little he for one moment imagined it was
possible that the sword of justice hung over him by so slender a thread. How he would have glared at any one who might have told him that he only
moved about by sufferance; and yet such was the fact. Sir Richard Blunt could put his hand upon him at any moment, and say,
"Todd, you are my prisoner. To Newgate--to Newgate, from whence only you
will emerge to your trial, and to the scaffold!" No, Todd, good easy soul, had not the slightest idea of his real
position upon that morning. He waited rather impatiently for the arrival of Johanna to take down the
shutters, and she urged upon Sir Richard Blunt and her friends at the
fruiterer's, the propriety of her going and doing that morning piece of
work; but they would not hear of it. She at length used an argument
which made Sir Richard adopt another course than keeping her at the
fruiterer's until Todd should get out of all patience and open his shop
himself. "It is possible," she said, "that I may be subjected to ill-usage if I
am not there; and then being compelled to call for aid as I might, you
would feel that you were forced to take Todd into custody before the
time at which you have resolved so to do." "That is true," said Sir Richard; and then, after some little
consideration, he added, "I have a plan that will save you both ways. You shall be in time, and yet you shall not take down Todd's shutters." They could none of them conceive at the moment how Sir Richard intended
to manage this; but they quickly saw that it was easy enough. Opening
just a little way one of the windows of the first floor at the
fruiterer's, he blew a whistle that he had suspended round his neck by a
small chain. In the course of a few moments, Crotchet walked into the
shop. "Governor here?" he said. "I heard him a chirping for me just
now--didn't I?" "Yes, Crotchet," said the fruiterer, who knew him quite well. "Step
up-stairs; you will find him there." Crotchet was soon in the presence of Sir Richard, and Johanna, and the
fruiterer's daughter.