What extraordinary favour this was, the lady did not condescend to
explain any more particulars, but it was quite enough for the husband to
understand that a storm was brewing, and to become humble and submissive
accordingly. "Well, my dear, I'm sure I only wish you to do just what you like;
that's all, my dear, I'm sure." "Very good." After this, she made the most vigorous efforts to get into the attic,
and if any one had been there--which at that juncture there was
not--they might truly have asked "Who's that knocking at the door?" Finding that all her efforts were ineffectual, she took to peeping
through the key-hole, but nothing was to be seen; and then, for the
first time, the idea struck her that there was something supernatural
about the business, and in a few moments this notion gained sufficient
strength to engender some lively apprehensions. "I tell you what," she said to her husband, "if you don't fetch a
constable at once, and have the door opened, and see all about, I'm
afraid--indeed I'm quite sure--I shall be very ill."

"Oh, dear--oh, dear." "It's of no use your standing here and saying 'Oh, dear,' like a great
stupid as you are--always was and always will be. Go for a constable, at
once." "A constable?" "Yes, There's Mr. Otton, the beadle of St. Dunstan's, lives opposite, as
you well know, and he's a constable. Run over the way and fetch him,
this minute." She began hastily to descend the stairs, and the shoemaker followed her,
remonstrating, for the idea of fetching a constable, and making him and
his house the talk of the whole neighbourhood, was by no means a
proposition that met with his approval. The lady was positive, however,
and Mr. Otton, the beadle of St. Dunstan's, was brought from over the
way, and the case stated to him at length. "_Conwulsions!_" exclaimed Otton, "what can I do?" "_Burst_ open the door," said the lady. "_Burst_ a door open, mum! What is you a thinking on? Why, that's
contrary to _Habus Corpus_, mum, and all that sort of thing. Conwulsions, mum! you mustn't do it. But I tell you what, now, will be
the thing." Here Mr. Otton put his finger to the side of his nose, and looked so
cunning that you would hardly have believed it possible. "What?--what?" "Why, suppose, mum, we ask Mr. Todd, next door, to give us leave to go
up into his attic, and get out at the window and look in at yours, mum?" "That'll do. Run in--"

"Me!" cried the shoemaker. "Oh, M--Mr. Todd is a strange man--a very
strange man--not at all a neighbourly sort of man, and I don't like to
go to him.--I won't go, that's flat--unless, my love, you particularly
wish it." "Conwulsions!" cried the beadle. "Ain't I a-going with you? Ain't I a
constabulary force, I should like to know? Conwulsions! What is yer
afeard on? Come on. Lor, what's the meaning o' that, I wonders, now; I
should just like to take that ere fellow up. Whoever heard of a horn
being blowed at such a rate, in the middle o' Fleet-street, afore,
unless it was somethin' as consarned the parish? Conwulsions! it's
contrary to _Habus Corpus_, it is. Is me a constabulary force, or is me
not?" This was the bugle sound which warned Sir Richard Blunt and his friend
Crotchet that Sweeney Todd had returned to his shop; and, in fact, while
this very conversation was going on at the shoemaker's, Todd had lit the
lamp in his shop, and actually opened it for business again, as the
evening was by no means very far advanced. Mr. Otton went to the door,
and looked about for the audacious bugle player, but he was not to be
seen; so he returned to the back parlour of the shoemaker, uttering his
favourite expletive of "Conwulsions" very frequently. "Now, if you is ready," he said, "I is; so let's come at once, and speak
to Mr. Todd. He may be a strange man, but for all that, he knows, I
_dessay_, what's proper respect to a _beetle_." With this strange transformation of his own title upon his lips, Mr.
Otton stalked on rather majestically, as he thought, to the street, and
thence to Todd's shop door, with the shoemaker following him. The gait
of the latter expressed reluctance, and there was a dubious expression
upon his face, which was quite amusing to behold. "Really, Mr. Otton," he said, "don't you think, after all, it would be
better to leave this affair alone till the morning? We can easily tell
my wife, you know, that Mr. Todd won't let us into his attic. That must
satisfy her, for what can she say to it?" "Sir," said the beadle, "when you call in the _constabullary_ force, you
must do just what they say, or lasteways you acts contrary to _Habus
Corpuses_. Come on. Conwulsions! is we to be brought over the street,
and then is we to do nothing to go down to prosperity?" The beadle uttered these words with such an air of pomposity and
importance that the shoemaker, who had a vague idea that _Habus Corpus_
was some fearful engine of the law at the command of all its
administrators, no longer offered any opposition, but, as meekly as any
lamb, followed Mr. Otton into Sweeney Todd's shop. The door yielded to a
touch, and Mr. Otton presented his full rubicund countenance to the gaze
of Sweeney Todd, who was at the further end of the shop, as though he
had just come from the parlour at the back of it, or was just going
there. He did not at first see the shoemaker, who was rather obscured by
the portly person of the beadle, and Todd's first idea was, the most
natural one in the world, namely, that the beadle came upon an emergency
to be shaved. Giving him an hideous leer, Todd said--

"A fine night for a clean shave." "Werry. In course, Mr. T., you is the best judge o' that 'ere, but I
does for myself." As he spoke, Mr. Otton rubbed his chin, to intimate that it was to his
shaving himself that he alluded just then. "Hair cut?" said Todd, giving a snap to the blades of a large pair of
scissors, that made Mr. Otton jump again, and nearly induced the
shoemaker to run out of the shop into the street. "No," said the beadle; and taking off his hat, he felt his hair, as
though to satisfy himself that it was all there, just as usual. "No." Todd looked as though he would have shaved him with extreme pleasure,
and advancing a few steps, he added--

"Then what is it that you bring your wieldy carcase here for, you gross
lump of stupidity? Ha! ha! ha!" "What? Conwulsions!" "Pho!--Pho! Can't you take a joke, Mr. Otton? I know you well enough. It's my funny way to call people, whom I admire very much, all the hard
names I can think of." "Is it?" "Oh, dear, yes. I thought you and all my neighbours knew that well
enough. I'm one of the drollest dogs alive. That I am. Won't you sit
down?" "Well, Mr. Todd, a joke may be a joke." The beadle looked very
sententious at this discovery. "But you have the oddest way of poking
your fun at any one that ever I heard of; but, I comes to you now as a
respectable parishioner, to--"

"Oh," said Todd, putting his hands, very deliberately into his pockets,
"how much?" "It ain't anything to pay.