As she stood at the door, however, she distinctly heard deep groans
issuing from some one within the church; and in a state of great alarm,
she ran off to one of the churchwardens, who had a duplicate key, and
related what she had heard. The churchwarden not being one of the most valorous of men, rather, upon
the whole, declined to go into the church with no other escort than the
beadle's wife; and as he, too, upon listening at the key-hole, heard the
groans distinctly, he called upon the passers-by to assist, and got
together quickly enough about twenty people to go into the church with
him. "Gentlemen," he said, "I don't know what it is, but there's groans; and
in these horrid times, when, for all we know, Sweeney Todd is about the
neighbourhood, one can't be too cautious." "Certainly," said everybody. "Then, gentlemen, if we all go in together when I open the door, it will
be the very best plan." This was duly agreed to; and the churchwarden, with a trembling hand,
turned his key in the lock, and opened the door. He then stepped aside,
and let all the crowd go in first, thinking that, as he was a man in
office, the parish could not afford to lose him, in case anything
serious should happen. "Well, gentlemen," he cried, "what is it?" "Nothing," said everybody. "Then I will soon let nothing see that I, a churchwarden, am not to be
frightened with impunity--that is to say, when I say frightened, I don't
exactly mean that, but astonished, I mean. Come, come--if any one be
here, I call upon them to surrender in the king's name!" A deep groan was the only response to this valorous speech; and the
moment the churchwarden heard it, he bolted out of the church, and ran
right across the way into a shop opposite. For a moment or two, this precipitate retreat of the churchwarden had
something contagious in it, and the whole of the men who had been
induced to stop and go into the church with him were inclined to retreat
likewise; but curiosity detained some three of four of them, and that
gave courage to the others. "What was it?" said one. "A groan," said another; "and it came from the pulpit." "The pulpit!" cried everybody. "Who ever heard of a pulpit groaning?" cried a third. "You stupid!" cried the second speaker: "might it not be some one in the
pulpit?--and--Oh Lord--there's a head!" At this they all took to flight; but at the door they encountered a man,
who called out--

"What's the matter? Can't you tell a fellow what the blessed row
is--eh?" This was no other than our old friend Crotchet, who was returning from a
conference with Sir Richard Blunt at his private office in Craven
Street. "Oh, it's a ghost! A ghost!" "A what?" "A ghost in the pulpit, and there is his head." "You don't say so?" said Crotchet, as he peered into the church, and
shading his eyes with his hand, saw the beadle's head just peeping over
the side of the pulpit in a most mysterious kind of way. "I'll soon have
him out, ghost or no ghost." Courage is as contagious as fear, especially when somebody else
volunteers to run all the risk; and so when Crotchet said he would soon
have the somebody out of the pulpit, the whole crowd followed him into
the church, applauding him very greatly for his prowess, and declaring
that if he had not then arrived, they would soon have had the ghost or
no ghost out of the sacred building, that they would. But they kept
within a few paces of the door for all that, so that they might be ready
for a rush into Fleet Street, if Mr. Crotchet should be overcome in the
adventure. That was only prudent. But Crotchet was not exactly the man to be overcome in any adventure,
and with an utter oblivion of all fear, he marched right into the middle
of the church, and commenced the ascent of the pulpit stairs. "Come--come," said Crotchet. "This won't do, Mr. Ghost, if you please;
just let me get hold of you, that's all." "Oh!" groaned the beadle. "Oh, yer is remarkably bad, is yer? but that sort of thing won't answer,
by no means. Where is yer?" Crotchet opened the pulpit door, and reaching in his hand, he caught
hold of the beadle by the leg, and fairly dragged him out on to the
little spiral stairs, down which he let him roll with a great many
bumps, until he landed in the body of the church all over bruises. "Why, goodness gracious!" cried the beadle's wife, "it's my wretch of a
husband after all!" The beadle had just strength to assume a sitting posture, and then he
cried--"Murder!--murder!--murder!" until Mr. Crotchet, seizing a cushion
from a pew, held it up before his mouth, to the imminent danger of
choking him, and said--

"Hold your row! If you wants to be murdered, can't you get it done
quietly, without alarming of all the parish? If you has got anything to
say, say it; and if you has got nothink, keep it to yourself, stupid." "Todd!" gasped the beadle, the moment the pew-cushion was withdrawn from
his mouth. "Todd--Sweeney Todd!" "What?" cried Crotchet. "Here!--he has been here, and I'm a dead man--no, I'm a beadle. Oh,
murder! murder!" "Don't begin that again. Be quiet, will you? If you have got anything to
say about Todd, say it, for I'm the very man of all the world as wants
to hear it. Speak up, and don't wink." "Oh, I've seen him. He's been here. I came to dust the bellowses, you
see, after my wife had thrown the pulpit at my head, for asking her to
come with me." "Oh, he's a-raving gentlemen," said the wife. "As I'm a sinner, it was
the bellowses as I throwed at his stupid head, and not the pulpit as
never was." "Go on," said Crotchet. "Confound the pulpit and the bellows too. It's
about Todd I want to hear. Drive on, will you?" "Oh, yes. I'm a coming to that; but it curdles my blood, and makes my
wig stand on end. I had dusted the communion table, and banged the
cushions, and up I goes to the pulpit, meaning to do for that as soon as
I could, when who should be there but Sweeney Todd!" "In the pulpit!" cried everybody. "In the pulpit," said the beadle. "Why didn't you nab him at once?" roared Crotchet. "Because, my good friend, he nabbed me at once. He laid hold of me by
this leg--no, it was this--no it wasn't. It was this--that is--no--"

"Confound both your legs! Where is he now?" "Why, really I can't exactly say, for after stamping upon my inside for
about half an hour, he left me for dead, and I was about half gone that
way, and I have been a groaning ever since, till now. I am going
fast--very fast, and there will be an election for beadle again in this
here parish. Oh dear--oh dear! Murder--murder--mur--"

"What, you is coming that agin, is you," cried Crotchet, as he again
caught up the pew-cushion. "I shall be obligated, after all, for to push
this down your blessed throat. Hold your noise, will you, Mr. What's-your-name." The beadle was so terrified at the idea of the pew-cushion again nearly
smothering him, that despite all his injuries, he sprang to his feet and
bolted out of the church. "Well, did yer ever know sich a feller?" said Crotchet.