A
lamp swung from the ceiling, which had a shade over the top of it, so
that it cast a tolerably bright glow upon the table below, which was
covered with books and papers, as well as glasses and bottles of
different kinds, which showed that the madhouse-keeper was, at all
events, as far as himself was concerned, not at all indifferent to
personal comfort. The walls, however, presented the most curious aspect,
for they were hung with a variety of tools and implements, which would
have puzzled any one not initiated into the matter even to guess at
their uses. These were, however, in point of fact, specimens of the
different kinds of machinery which were used for the purpose of coercing
the unhappy persons whose evil destiny made them members of that
establishment. Those were what is "called the good old times," when all
sorts of abuses flourished in perfection, and when the unhappy insane
were actually punished as if they were guilty of some great offence. Yes, and worse than that were they punished, for a criminal who might
have injustice done to him by any who were in authority over him, could
complain, and if he got hold of a person of higher power, his complaints
might be listened to, but no one heeded what was said by the poor
maniac, whose bitterest accusations of his keepers, let their conduct be
what it might, was only listened to and set down as a further proof of
his mental disorder. This was indeed a most awful and sad state of
things, and, to the disgrace of this country, it is a social evil
allowed until very late years to continue in full force. Mr. Fogg, the
madhouse-keeper fixed his keen eyes from beneath his shaggy brows, upon
Sweeney Todd, as the latter entered his apartment, and then he said--

"Mr. Todd, I think, unless my memory deceives me." "The same," said the barber, making a hideous face, "I believe I am not
easily forgotten." "True," said Mr. Fogg, as he reached a book, the edge of which was cut
into a lot of little slips, on each of which was a capital letter, in
the order of the alphabet--"true, you are not easily forgotten, Mr. Todd." He then opened the book at the letter T, and read from it:--

"Mr. Sweeney Todd, Fleet-street, London, paid one year's keep and burial
of Thomas Simkins, aged 15, found dead in his bed, after a residence in
the asylum of 10 months and 4 days. I think, Mr. Todd, that was our last
little transaction; what can I do now for you, sir?" "I am rather unfortunate," said Todd, "with my boys. I have got another
here, who has shown such decided symptoms of insanity, that it becomes
absolutely necessary to place him under your care." "Indeed!--does he rave?" "Why, yes he does, and it's the most absurd nonsense in the world that
he raves about; for, to hear him, one would really think that, instead
of being one of the most humane of men, I was, in point of fact, an
absolute murderer." "A murderer, Mr. Todd!" "Yes, a murderer--a murderer to all intents and purposes; could anything
be more absurd than such an accusation?--I, that have the milk of human
kindness flowing in every vein, and whose very appearance ought to be
sufficient to convince anybody at once of my kindness of disposition." Sweeney Todd finished his speech by making such a hideous face, that the
madhouse-keeper could not for the life of him tell what to say to it;
and then there came one of those short, disagreeable laughs which Todd
would at times utter, which, somehow or other, never appeared exactly to
come from his mouth, but always made people look up at the walls and
ceiling of the apartment in which they were, in great doubt as to whence
the remarkable sound came. "For how long," said the madhouse-keeper, "do you think this malady will
continue?" "I will pay," said Sweeney Todd, as he leaned over the table, and looked
in the face of his questioner, "I will pay for twelve months; but I
don't think between you and I, that the case will last anything like so
long--I think he will die suddenly." "I shouldn't wonder if he did. Some of our patients do die very
suddenly, and, somehow or other, we never know exactly how it happens;
but it must be some sort of fit, for they are found dead in the morning
in their beds, and then we bury them privately and quietly, without
troubling anybody about it at all, which is decidedly the best way,
because it saves a great annoyance to friends and relations, as well as
prevents any extra expense which otherwise might be foolishly gone to." "You are wonderfully correct and considerate," said Todd, "and it's no
more than what I expected from you, or what any one might expect from a
person of your great experience, knowledge, and acquirements. I must
confess I am quite delighted to hear you talk in so elevated a strain." "Why," said Mr. Fogg, with a strange leer upon his face, "we are forced
to make ourselves useful, like the rest of the community; and we could
not expect people to send their mad friends and relatives here, unless
we took good care that their ends and views were answered by so doing. We make no remarks, and we ask no questions. Those are the principles
upon which we have conducted business so successfully and so long; those
are the principles upon which we shall continue to conduct it, and to
merit, we hope, the patronage of the British public." "Unquestionably--most unquestionably." "You may as well introduce me to your patient at once, Mr. Todd, for I
suppose, by this time, he has been brought into this house." "Certainly, certainly--I shall have great pleasure in showing him to
you." The madhouse-keeper rose, and so did Mr. Todd, and the former, pointing
to the bottles and glasses on the table, said--

"When this business is settled, we can have a friendly glass together." To this proposition Sweeney Todd assented with a nod, and then they both
proceeded to what was called a reception-room in the asylum, and where
poor Tobias had been conveyed and laid upon a table, when he showed
slight symptoms of recovering from the state of insensibility into which
he had fallen, and a man was sluicing water on his face by the
assistance of a hearth broom occasionally dipped into a pailful of that
fluid. "Quite young," said the madhouse-keeper, as he looked upon the pale and
interesting face of Tobias. "Yes," said Sweeney Todd, "he is young--more's the pity--and, of course,
we deeply regret his present situation." "Oh, of course, of course; but see, he opens his eyes, and will speak
directly." "Rave, you mean, rave!" said Todd; "don't call it speaking, it is not
entitled to the name. Hush! listen to him." "Where am I?" said Tobias, "where am I? Todd is a murderer--I denounce
him." "You hear--you hear?" said Todd. "Mad indeed," said the keeper. "Oh, save me from him--save me from him!" said Tobias, fixing his eyes
upon Mr. Fogg. "Save me from him; it is my life he seeks because I know
his secrets. He is a murderer--and many a person comes into his shop,
who never leaves it again in life, if at all." "You hear him?"