As it was, Peter had only
time to utter one shriek, when down it came upon the lower part of his
face. The crush was hideous. The lower jaw fell crushed and mangled,
and, with a frightful oath, Todd again raised the hammer: but the victim
closed with him, and face to face they grappled. The hammer was useless,
and Todd cast it from him as he felt that he required all his strength
to grapple with the man who, at that moment, fastened on him with the
strength of madness. Over chair--over the table, to the destruction of
all that was on it, they went, coiled up in each other's
embrace--dashing here and there with a vehemence that threatened
destruction to them both, and yet not a word spoken. The frightful
injury that Peter had received effectually prevented him from
articulating, and Todd had nothing to say. Down! down they both come;
but Todd is uppermost. Yes; he has got his victim upon the floor, and
his knee is upon his chest! He drags him a few inches further towards
the fire-place--inches were sufficient, and then grappling him by the
throat, he lifts his head and dashes it against the sharp edge of an
iron fender! Crash!--crash!--crash! The man is dead! Crash again! That
last crash was only an injury to a corpse! Once more Todd raised the now
lax and smashed skull, but he let it go again. It fell with a heavy blow
upon the floor! "That will do," said Todd. [Illustration: Sweeney Todd Butchers The Turnkey.] He slowly rose, and left his cravat in the hands of the dead man. He
shook himself, and again that awful oath, which cannot be transcribed,
came from his lips. Rap! rap! rap! Todd listened. What's that? Somebody
in the shop? Yes, it must be--or some one wanting to come in, rather,
for he had taken the precaution to make the outer door fast. Rap! rap! rap! "I must go," said Todd. "Stop.--Let me see." He snatched a glass from the wall, and looked at himself. There was
blood upon his face. With his hand, he hastily wiped it off, and then,
walking as composedly as he could into the shop, he opened the door. A
man stood upon the threshold with quite a smile upon his face, as he
said--

"Busy, I suppose?" "Yes, sir," said Todd. "I was just finishing off a gentleman. Shaved or
dressed, sir?" "Shaved, if you please. But don't let me hurry you, by any means. I can
wait a little." "Thank you, sir, if you will oblige me for a moment or two. You will
find some amusements, sir, from the _Evening Courant_, I dare say." As he spoke, he handed the then popular newspaper to his customer, and
left him. Todd took good care to close the door leading into the
parlour, and then proceeding up to the body of the murdered Peter, he,
with his foot, turned it over and over, until it was under the table,
where it was most completely hidden by a cover that hung down to within
an inch of the floor. Before Todd had got this operation well completed,
he heard his shop door open. That door creaked most villanously; by so
doing, while he was otherwise engaged, he could always hear if it was
opened or attempted to be opened. Todd was in the shop in a moment, and
saw a respectable-looking personage, dressed in rather clerical costume,
who said--

"You keep powder?" "Certainly, sir." "Then I wish my hair powdered; but do not let me interrupt this
gentleman. I can wait." "Perhaps, sir, if you could make it convenient to look in again," said
Todd, "you will probably be more amused by looking at the shops, than by
waiting here while this gentleman is shaved." "Thank you, you are very kind; but I am rather tired, and glad of the
opportunity of having a rest." "Certainly, sir. As you please. The _Courant_, sir, at your service." "Thank you--thank you." The clerical looking old gentleman sat down to read the _Courant_, while
Todd commenced the operation of shaving his first customer. When that
operation was half completed, he said--

"They report, sir, that St. Dunstan's is giving way." "Giving way," said the clerical looking gentleman. "How do you mean
about giving way?" "Why, sir," said Todd, with an air quite of reverential respect, "they
say that the old church has a leaning towards Temple Bar, and that, if
you stand at the opposite side of the way, you may just see it. I can't,
but they do say so." "Bless me," said the clerical looking gentleman. "That is a very sad
thing indeed, and nobody can be more sorry than I am to hear such a tale
of the old church." "Well sir, it may not be true." "I hope not, indeed. Nothing would give me greater pain than to be
assured it was true. The stench in the body of the church that so much
has been said about in the parish is nothing to what you say, for who
ought to put his nose into competition with his eternal welfare?" "Who, indeed, sir! What is your opinion of that alarming stench in old
St. Dunstan's?" "I am quite at a loss to make it out." "And so am I, sir--so am I. But begging your pardon, sir, if I am not
making too free, I thought as you were probably a clergyman, sir, you
might have heard something more about it than we common folks." "No--no. Not a word. But what you say of the church having a leaning to
Temple Bar is grievous." "Well, sir, if you were to go and look, you might find out that it was
no such thing, and by the time you return I shall have completely
finished off this gentleman." "No--no. I make no sort of doubt in the world but that you would by that
time have finished off the gentleman, but as for my going to look at the
old church with any idea that it had a leaning to anything but itself, I
can only say that my feelings as a man and a member of the glorious
establishment will not permit me." "But, my dear sir, you might satisfy yourself that such was really not
the case." "No--no. Imagination would make me think that the church had a leaning
in all sorts of directions, until at last fancy might cheat me into a
belief that it actually tottered." The clerical-looking gentleman pronounced these words with so much
feeling, that the person who was being shaved nearly got cut by twisting
his head round in order to see him. "True, sir," said Todd. "Very true--very true indeed, and very just;
imagination does indeed play strange freaks with us at times, I well
know." The horrible face that Todd made as he spoke ought to have opened the
eyes of any one to the fact that he was saying anything but what he
thought, but no one saw it. When he pleased, Todd generally took care to
keep his faces to himself. "I don't wonder, Rev. sir," he said, "that your feelings prompt you to
say what you do. I'm afraid I have taken off a little too much whisker,
sir." "Oh, never mind. It will grow again," said the person who was being
shaved. Todd suddenly struck his own head with the flat of his hand, as a man
will do to whose mind some sudden thought has made itself apparent, and
in a voice of doubt and some alarm, he pronounced the one word--

"Powder!" "What's the matter? You are a long time shaving me." "Powder!" said Todd again.