Todd could have struck them for the exertions that they were making, but
he dared not even speak one deprecating word to make them pause. He was
condemned only to watch what was going on; and truly a most interesting
scene it was. Mrs. Lovett had on a large cloak, and it was by the aid of that, as well
as by the strength of the current, that she floated so long as to make
it quite remarkable, and to induce the opinion in the minds of some of
the spectators that she was swimming. Suddenly, just as a boat that had put off from the stairs by the Custom
House reached her, down she went. "Gone!" said Todd. "Yes, she's gone," said one of the watermen. "She's gone, poor thing,
whoever she was, and no one will get her now." "Are you sure of that?" "Ah, master, as sure as may be; but you are a witness that it was no
fault of ours, master." "Certainly," said Todd. "The fact is, that she got alarmed the moment
the boat shot under the arch, and rose up. I tried to catch her, but she
toppled over into the water." "Natural enough, sir. If she did get up, over she was sure to go. Did
you hear what a shriek she gave, Bill? My eye, if I don't dream of that,
I'm a Dutchman! I fancy it is ringing in my ears. Yet I have heard a few
odd sounds on the river in my time, but that was the very worst." "And she is gone," said Todd. "Why does that boat linger there upon the
spot where she went down? Stay--stay, I cannot see if you pull into
shore so quick. Now that barge is between me and the boat." "There's nothing to see now, sir." "Well--well. That will do--that will do. Poor creature! Viewing it in
one way, my friends, it's a happy release, for she was a little touched
in her intellect, poor thing; but it's dreadful to lose one to whom you
are much attached; notwithstanding, I shall shed many a tear over her
loss, and of the two I had really much rather it had been myself. Alas! alas! you see how deeply affected I am!" "It's no use grieving, sir." "Not a whit--not a whit. I know that, but I can't help it. Take that and
divide it between you. I give it to you as a kind of assurance that it
is not your fault the poor thing fell overboard." "Thank your honour," said the man in whose huge palm Todd had placed a
guinea. "We may be asked who you are possibly, sir, if the body should
be found." "Oh, certainly--certainly," said Todd, "that is well thought of. I am
the Rev. Silas Mugginthorpe, preacher at the new chapel in Little
Britain. Will you remember?" "Oh, yes sir. All's right." Todd ascended the slippery steps of the little landing-place with an
awfully demoniac chuckle upon his face, and when he reached the top of
them he struck his breast with his clenched hand, as he said in a voice
of fierce glee--

"'Tis done--'tis done. Ha, ha, ha! 'Tis done. Why, Mrs. Lovett, you have
surely been singularly indiscreet to-day. Ha, ha! Food for fishes, if
fishes can live in the Thames. Ha, ha! Farewell, Mrs. Lovett, a long
farewell to you. So--so you thought, did you, to get the better of
Sweeney Todd? To stick to him like a bear until he should be compelled
to, what you called, settle with you? Well, he has settled with you--he
has! Ha, ha!" Thus in wild ferocious glee did Todd walk through the city back to his
own house after perpetrating this the worst murder, if there can be at
all degrees in murder, that he had ever done. People got out of his way
as they heard his wild demoniac laugh, and many, after one glance at his
awful face, crossed over to the other side of the street with
precipitation. "Good-day, Mrs. Lovett," he kept muttering. "A charming day, Mrs.
Lovett, and charmingly you look to-day, only a little swelled and
bloated with the water. You wish me to settle with you? Oh, of course, I
will settle with you before we part. Ha, ha!" Todd had never been so thoroughly pleased in all his life. More than
once he stopped in the street to laugh, and twice on his route he called
at noted hostels in the city to refresh himself with a glass of
something strong and hot. He fancied that he wore upon his countenance
quite an amiable aspect, and if one can fancy the devil himself looking
sentimental, or an ogre looking religious and humane, we may have some
sort of mixed idea of how Todd looked when he was amiable. In this blissful condition he reached Fleet Street, and just as he
crossed the way from Ludgate Hill to the top of Fleet Market he was
accosted by a miserable-looking woman in widow's weeds, with a girl in
one hand and a boy in the other. They were begging, that was evident,
for each of the children, and genteel pleasant-looking children they
were, although now dejected by destitution, had upon its breast a little
written paper with the one word, "Want" upon it. That word ought to have
been sufficient to unlock the hearts of the passers by, and yet how the
crowd hurried on! [Illustration: The Widow Asks For Charity Of Her Husband's
Murderer--Todd.] "Oh, Mr. Todd," said the woman, "can you spare a trifle for the little
ones?" "Who are you," he said, "that you address me by my name, woman?" "My name is Cummins, sir. Don't you recollect how my poor husband, John
Cummins, went out one day about a month ago, to carry the watch-cases he
had to polish to his employers, saying that he would call at your shop
and be shaved before he went into the city, and didn't call, sir, as you
kindly told me, but has never been heard of since? The city people will
have it that he ran away; but ah, sir, I know him better. Would he run
away from me and from those that he loved so well? Oh, no--no--no, I
know John better." CHAPTER XCVIII. JOHANNA HAS A VISITOR WHILE TODD IS GONE UPON THE RIVER. "Well?" said Todd. "Well, sir, I was thinking that--that you might spare a trifle for the
children, sir. They are starving--do you hear, Mr. Todd?--they are
starving, and have no father now." "What was the value of the watch-cases your husband had with him, Mrs.
Cummins, when he disappeared?" "About a hundred pounds, sir, they tell me. But don't you believe, sir,
for one moment that John deserted me and these--ah no, sir." "You really think so?" "I am sure of it, sir, quite--quite sure of it. He loved me, sir, and
these--he did indeed, sir. You will help us, Mr. Todd--oh, say that you
will do what you can for us." "Certainly, my good woman--certainly. What is this little fellow's name,
Mrs. Cummins?" "William--William is his name," said the poor woman, in such a flurry
from the idea of what Todd was going to do for the children that she
could hardly speak, but caught her breath hysterically. "His name is
William, Mr. Todd." "And this little girl, ma'am?" "Ann, sir--Ann. That is her name, Mr. Todd. The same, if you please,
sir, as her poor mother's. Look up, Ann, my dear, and courtesy to the
gentleman. God bless you, Mr. Todd, for thinking of me and mine. God
bless you, sir!" "Ann and William," said Todd, "Ann and William; and very nice children
they are, too, in my opinion, Mrs. Cummins." "They are good children, sir."