"How good of him, and what a pity it would have been if he had called
the noble animal away before the milk was all consumed. Dear me, some
people would grudge a creature a drop of milk. A-hem--Charley?" "Yes, sir." "I am going out." Johanna's heart beat rapidly. "If any one should come, you can say it is of no use their waiting, for
I am gone to shave and dress a whole family, at some distance off, and
may not be back for some hours; but, Charley, for your own private
information, let me tell you that I may look in at any moment, and that,
although I shall be busy, I shall be able to come in for a minute or so,
when I am least expected." Todd gave an awful leer at Johanna as he spoke. "Yes, sir," she said. Todd carefully locked the parlour door. "Charley. How do you like your place?" "Very well, sir; and I think in a little time I shall like it better." "Good lad! Good lad! Well, well. Perhaps I ought not to say too much so
soon, but if you merit my esteem, Charley, I shall do as much for you as
I did for the last lad I had. After some term of service with me, I
provided him with an independant home. A large house, and a garden. Ha!" "How very kind." "Yes. Very." "And is he happy?" "Quite, in a manner of speaking, notwithstanding human nature is prone
to be discontented, and there are persons, who would sigh, if in
Paradise, for some change, even if it were to a region supposed to be
its opposite zone. Charley, however, I think will be of a different
mind; and when your time comes--which it certainly will--Ha!--to reap
the fruits of your service with me, I am sure that no one will hear you
complain." "I will not be ungrateful sir." "Well, well, we shall see; and now while I am gone let there be no
peeping or prying about. No attempts to open doors or force locks. No
scrambling to look upon shelves or raking in odd corners. If you
do--I--Ha! ha! I will cut your throat, Charley, with the bluntest razor
I have. Ha!" Todd had got on his gloves by this time, and then he left the shop. Johanna was alone! Yes, there she was, at last, alone in that dreadful
place, which now for days upon days had been food for her young
imagination. There she was in that place, which her waking thoughts and
her dreams had alike peopled with horrors. There she was between those
walls, which had perchance echoed to the last despairing death cry of
him whom she had loved better than life itself. There she was in the
very atmosphere of murders. His blood might form part of the stains that
were upon the dingy walls and the begrimed floor. Oh, it was horrible! "God help me now! God help me now!" said Johanna, as she covered her
face with her hands and wept convulsively. She heard a faint sound. It was the chiming of St. Dunstan's clock, and
she started. It put her in mind that time, her great ally, now was
fleeting. "Away tears!" she cried as she dashed the heavy moisture from her long
eye-lashes. "Away tears! I have been strong in purpose. I have already
waded through a sea of horrors, and I must be firm now. The time has
come. The time that I looked forward to when I thus attired myself, and
thought it possible to deceive this dreadful man. Courage! Courage! I
have now much to do." First she crept to the door and looked out into the street. A vague
suspicion that Todd, after all, might only be watching near at hand,
somewhere, took possession of her. She looked long and anxiously to the
right and to the left, but she saw nothing of him. Then she fastened the
door upon the inside. "If he should return very suddenly," she said, "I shall have notice of
it by his efforts to open the door. That will give me a moment for
preparation possibly." Then with such an anxious look as no language could do justice to in its
delineation, Johanna looked round the shop. Where was she to begin her
investigation? There were drawers, cupboards, chests, shelves. What was
she to look at first? or was she in dread of some contrivances of Todd's
to find out that she had looked at all, yet at this the last moment,
forego the risk and rush into the street and so home? "No, no! I am in God's hands," she said, "and I will not flinch." And yet, although she felt that she was quite alone in that place, how
cautiously she trod. How gently she touched one thing and then another,
and with what a shudder she laid her hand for a moment to steady
herself, upon the arm of the shaving chair. By so leaning upon it she
found that it was a fixture; and upon a further examination of it, she
found that it was nailed or screwed to the floor firmly. It was an old
fashioned massive chair, with a wide deep reclining seat. A strange
feeling of horror came over her as she regarded it. CHAPTER LXXI. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER. What was there in the chair that Johanna should for some few moments,
now that she had begun to look at it, not be able to take her eyes off
it? She tried to shake it, but it was as fast as a rock, and for all she
knew it was quite usual to have a shaving chair fixed to the floor. In
all likelihood it was in the best position for light which the dingy
shop afforded. She left the chair at last, and then a large cupboard in
one corner of the room attracted her attention. It was locked. In vain
did she try to force it open. It would not yield. She tried, too, the
parlour door without effect. That was quite fast; but as she turned the
handle of the lock, she fancied she heard, or she really did hear
something move in the room. A faint feeling came over her for a moment,
and she was glad to hold by the wall, close at hand, to support herself. "It must have been fancy," she said faintly. "I am learning nothing, and
the time is flying fast." A kind of counter ran parallel to the window, and beneath it was a space
covered in by doors. Todd surely had forgotten that, for one of the
doors was open. Johanna looked in and beheld quite a collection of
sticks and umbrellas. Some clothing too lay upon the lowest shelf. With
trembling hands, Johanna pulled at the sleeve of some article and found
it to be a jacket, such as a sailor of the better sort might wear, for
it was exquisitively fine, and had no end of silver buttons upon it. Her
sight was dimmed by tears, as she said to herself--

"Oh, God! was this his?" She held the jacket up to the light, and she found the breast portion of
it stained, and all the buttons there tarnished. What was it but blood? The blood of the hapless wearer of that article of dress, that produced
such an effect; but yet how was she to prove to herself that it had been
Mark Ingestrie? Then it was that the thought struck her of how ill
conceived had been that undertaking, which might, in the midst of all
its frightful dangers, only end in furnishing her with more food for the
most horrible surmises, without banishing one sad image of her
imagination, or confirming one dreadful dream of the fate of her lover. "'Tis all in vain!" she gasped. "All in vain! I shall know nothing, and
only feel more desolate.