He turned and fled as he was forced
back to the landing, and then came to the next stair-head, and again he
made a desperate stand. This went on for stair after stair, and
continued for more than two or three hours. There were moments of
cessation when they all stood still and looked at each other. "Fire upon him!" said one. "No, no; we shall have the authorities down upon us, and then all will
go wrong." "I think we had much better have let it alone in the first place, as he
was in, for you may be sure this won't make him keep a secret; we shall
all be split upon as sure as fate." "Well, then, rush upon him, and down with him. Never let him out! On to
him! Hurrah!" Away they went, but they were resolutely met by the staff of Sweeney
Todd, who had gained new strength by the short rest he had had. "Down with the spy!" This was shouted out by the men, but as each of them approached, they
were struck down, and at length, finding himself on the second floor
landing, and being fearful that some one was descending from above, he
rushed into one of the inner rooms. In an instant he had locked the
doors, which were strong and powerful. "Now," he muttered, "for means to escape." He waited a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, and then he crossed
the floor to the windows, which were open. They were the old-fashioned
bay-windows, with the heavy ornamental work which some houses possessed,
and overhung the low door-ways, and protected them from the weather. "This will do," he said, as he looked down to the pavement--"this will
do. I will try this descent, if I fall." The people on the other side of the door were exerting all their force
to break it open, and it had already given one or two ominous creaks,
and a few minutes more would probably let them into the room. The
streets were clear--no human being was moving about, and there were
faint signs of the approach of morning. He paused a moment to inhale the
fresh air, and then he got outside of the window. By means of the sound
oaken ornaments, he contrived to get down to the drawing-room balcony,
and then he soon got down into the street. As he walked slowly away, he
could hear the crash of the door, and a slight cheer, as they entered
the room; and he could imagine to himself the appearance of the faces of
those who entered, when they found the bird had flown, and the room was
empty. Sweeney Todd had not far to go; he soon turned into Fleet-street,
and made for his own house. He looked about him, but there were none
near him; he was tired and exhausted, and right glad was he when he
found himself at his own door. Then stealthily he put the key into the
door, and slowly entered the house. CHAPTER IX. JOHANNA AT HOME, AND THE RESOLUTION. Johanna Oakley would not allow Colonel Jeffery to accompany her all the
way home, and he, appreciating the scruples of the young girl, did not
press his attention upon her, but left her at the corner of Fore-street,
after getting from her a half promise that she would meet him again on
that day week, at the same hour, in the Temple-gardens. "I ask this of you, Johanna Oakley," he said, "because I have resolved
to make all the exertion in my power to discover what has become of Mr.
Thornhill, in whose fate I am sure I have succeeded in interesting you,
although you care so little for the string of pearls which he has in
trust for you." "I do, indeed, care little for them," said Johanna, "so little, that it
may be said to amount to nothing." "But still they are yours, and you ought to have the option of disposing
of them as you please. It is not well to despise such gifts of fortune;
for if you can yourself do nothing with them, there are surely some
others whom you may know, upon whom they would bestow great happiness." "A string of pearls, great happiness?" said Johanna, inquiringly. "Your mind is so occupied by your grief that you quite forget such
strings are of great value. I have seen those pearls, Johanna, and can
assure you that they are in themselves a fortune." "I suppose," she said sadly, "it is too much for human nature to expect
two blessings at once. I had the fond, warm heart that loved me without
the fortune, that would have enabled us to live in comfort and
affluence; and now, when that is perchance within my grasp, the heart,
that was by far the more costly possession, and the richest jewel of
them all, lies beneath the wave with its bright influences, and its
glorious and romantic aspirations, quenched for ever." "You will meet me then, as I request of you, to hear if I have any news
for you?" "I will endeavour so to do. I have all the will; but Heaven knows if I
may have the power." "What mean you, Johanna?" "I cannot tell what a week's anxiety may do; I know not but a sick bed
may be my resting-place, until I exchange it for the tomb. I feel even
now my strength fail me, and that I am scarcely able to totter to my
home. Farewell, sir! I owe you my best thanks, as well for the trouble
you have taken, as for the kindly manner in which you have detailed to
me what has passed." "Remember," said Colonel Jeffery, "that I bid you adieu, with the hope
of meeting you again." It was thus they parted, and Johanna proceeded to her father's house. Who now that had met her and had chanced not to see that sweet face,
which could never be forgotten, would have supposed her to be the once
gay and sprightly Johanna Oakley? Her steps were sad and solemn, and all
the juvenile elasticity of her frame seemed like one prepared for death;
and she hoped that she would be able to glide, silently and unobserved,
to her own little bed-chamber--that chamber where she had slept since
she was a child, and on the little couch, on which she had so often laid
down to sleep that holy and calm slumber which such hearts as hers can
only know. But she was doomed to be disappointed, for the Rev. Mr. Lupin
was still there, and as Mrs. Oakley had placed before that pious
individual a great assortment of creature comforts, and among the rest
some mulled wine, which seemed particularly to agree with him, he showed
no disposition to depart. It unfortunately happened that this wine, of
which the reverend gentleman partook with such a holy relish, was kept
in a cellar, and Mrs. Oakley had had occasion twice to go down to
procure a fresh supply, and it was on a third journey for the same
purpose that she encountered poor Johanna, who had just let herself in
at the private door. "Oh! you have come home, have you?" said Mrs. Oakley; "I wonder where
you have been to, gallivanting; but I suppose I may wonder long enough
before you will tell me. Go into the parlour, I want to speak to you." Now poor Johanna had quite forgotten the very existence of Mr.
Lupin--so, rather than explain to her mother, which she knew would beget
more questions, she wished to go to bed at once, notwithstanding it was
an hour before the usual time for so doing.