"Sir," she said between her clenched teeth, addressing the man who was
such an eye-sore to her in the shop. "Sir, I don't know who you are, but
I hope to be able to show you when I have served these gentlemen, that
even I am not to be insulted with impunity." "Anything you please, madam," he replied, "in a small way, only don't
exert yourself too much." Mrs. Lovett flew to the windlass again, and from the manner in which she
now worked at it, it was quite clear that when she had her hands free
from that job, she fully intended to make good her threats against the
tall stout man. The young beardless scions of the law, trembled at the
idea of what might happen. And now the tops of the pies appeared. Then they saw the rim of the
large tray upon which they were, and then just as the platform itself
was level with the floor of the shop, up flew tray and pies, as if
something had exploded beneath them, and a tall slim man sprung upon the
counter. It was the cook, who from the cellars beneath, had laid himself
as flat as he could beneath the tray of pies, and so had been worked up
to the shop by Mrs. Lovett! [Illustration: Mrs. Lovett's Cook Astonishes Her Customers, Rather.] "Gentlemen," he cried, "I am Mrs. Lovett's cook. The pies are made of
_human flesh_!" *       *       *       *       *

We shrink, we tremble at the idea of attempting to describe the scene
that ensued in the shop of Mrs. Lovett contingent upon this frightful
apparition, and still more frightful speech of the cook; but duty--our
duty to the public--requires that we should say something upon the
occasion. If we can do nothing more, we can briefly enumerate what did actually
take place in some instances. About twenty clerks rushed into Bell Yard, and there and then, to the
intense surprise of the passers-by, became intensely sick. The cook,
with one spring, cleared the counter, and alighted amongst the
customers, and with another spring, the tall impertinent man, who had
made many remarks to Mrs. Lovett of an aggravating tendency, cleared the
counter likewise in the other direction, and, alighting close to Mrs.
Lovett, he cried--

"Madam, you are my prisoner!" For a moment, and only for a moment, the great--the cunning, and the
redoubtable Mrs. Lovett, lost her self-possession, and, staggering back,
she lurched heavily against the glass-case next to the wall, immediately
behind the counter. It was only for a moment, though, that such an
effect was produced upon Mrs. Lovett; and then, with a spring like an
enraged tigress, she caught up a knife that was used for slipping under
the pies and getting them cleanly out of the little tins, and rushed
upon the tall stranger. Yes, she rushed upon him; but for once in a way, even Mrs. Lovett had
met with her match. With a dexterity, that only long practice in
dealings with the more desperate portion of human nature could have
taught him, the tall man closed with her, and had the knife out of her
hand in a moment. He at once threw it right through the window into Bell
Yard, and then, holding Mrs. Lovett in his arms, he said--

"My dear madam, you only distress yourself for nothing; all resistance
is perfectly useless. Either I must take you prisoner, or you me, and I
decidedly incline to the former alternative." The knife that had been thrown through the window was not without its
object, for in a moment afterwards Mr. Crotchet made his appearance in
the shop. "All right, Crotchet," said he who had captured Mrs. Lovett; "first clap
the bracelets on this lady." "Here yer is," said Crotchet. "Lor, mum! I had a eye on you months and
months agone. How is you, mum, in yer _feelin's_ this here nice
evening?--Eh mum?" "A knife--a knife! Oh, for a knife!" cried Mrs. Lovett. "Ex-actly, mum," added Crotchet, as he with professional dexterity
slipped the handcuffs on her wrists. "Would you like one with a hivory
handle, mum? or would anything more common do, mum?" Mrs. Lovett fell to the floor, or rather she cast herself to it, and
began voluntarily beating her head against the boards. They quickly
lifted her up; and then the tall stranger turned to the cook, who, after
leaping over the counter, had sat down upon a chair in a state of
complete exhaustion, and he said--

"Do you know the way to Sir Richard's office, in Craven Street? He
expects you there, I believe?" "Yes, yes. But now that all is over, I feel very ill."

"In that case, I will go with you, then. Crotchet, who have you got
outside?" "Only two of our pals, Muster Green; but it's all right, if so be as you
leaves the lady to us." "Very well. The warrant is at Newgate, and the governor is expecting her
instant arrival. You will get a coach at the corner of the yard, and be
off with her at once." "All's right," said Crotchet. "I knowed as she'd be nabbed, and I had
one all ready, you sees." "That was right, Crotchet. How amazingly quick everybody has left the
shop. Why--why, what is all this?" As the officer spoke, about half a dozen squares of glass in the shop
window of the house were broken in, and a ringing shout from a dense mob
that was rapidly collecting in the yard, came upon the ears of the
officer. The two men whom Crotchet had mentioned, with difficulty
pressed their way into the shop, and one of them cried--

"The people that were in the shop have spread the news all over the
neighbourhood, and the place is getting jammed up with a mob, every one
of which is mad, I think, for they talk of nothing but of the tearing of
Mrs. Lovett to pieces. They are pouring in from Fleet Street and Carey
Street by hundreds at a time." CHAPTER CXIII. THE ROUTE TO NEWGATE--MRS. LOVETT'S DANGER FROM THE MOB. Mrs. Lovett, upon hearing these words, turned ghastly pale, but she did
not speak. The officers looked at each other with something like dismay,
and then before either of them could say another word, there arose a
wild prolonged shout from without. "Out with her--out with her! Kill her! Tear her to bits and hang her on
the lamp-post in the middle of Bell Yard! Out with her! Drag her out! Hang her! hang her!" "The coach you say is waiting, Crotchet?" said the officer, who had been
intrusted by Sir Richard Blunt with the conduct of the whole business
connected with Mrs. Lovett's capture. "It were," said Crotchet, "and that coachman ain't the sort of fellow to
move on till I tell him. I knows him." "Very good, then we must make a dash for it, and get her away by main
force, it must be done, let the risk and the consequences be what they
may, and the sooner the better, too. Come on, madam." "Death--death!" said Mrs. Lovett. "Kill me here, some of you, kill me at
once; but do not let me be torn to pieces by a savage mob. Oh, God, they
yell for my blood! Save me from them, and kill me here. A knife! oh, for
a knife!" "And a fork too, mum," said Crotchet; "in course, if you wants 'em.