Now, Mr. Brown is a kind sort of man, and spoke to Podd about
doing something, but Bugsby and Smuggins, they will have it that my
husband ran away with the watches, and that we are only watching the
best time to go to him; but my aunt, Mrs. Longfinch, in Bedfordshire,
will do something for us if we go there; so I am trying to get up a
pound or two to take me and the little ones." Todd made a chuckling noise, like a hen in a farm-yard, and looked the
picture of compassionate commiseration. "Dear--dear, what a shocking thing." "It is indeed, sir." "And have you no idea of what has become of him, madam?" "Not in the least, sir--not in the least. But I said to myself--'I dare
say Mr. Todd will be so good as to assist us in our necessities.'" "Certainly, madam--certainly. Do you know what is the most nourishing
thing you can give to your children?" "Alas! sir, the poor things, since their poor father went, have had
little choice of one thing or another. It was he who supported them. But
what is it, sir?" "Mrs. Lovett's pies." "Ah, sir, they had one a-piece, poor things, the very day after poor
Solomon Slick disappeared. A compassionate neighbour brought them, and
all the while they ate them, they thought of their father that was
gone." "Very natural, that," said Todd. "Now, Mrs. Slick, I am but a poor man,
but I will give you my advice, and something more substantial. The
advice is, that if anybody is moved to compassion, and bestows upon you
a few pence for your children, you go and lay it out in pies at Mrs.
Lovett's; and as for the more substantial something, take that, and read
it at your leisure." Todd, as he spoke, took from a drawer a religious tract, entitled "The
Spiritual Quartern Loaf for the Hungry Sinner," and handed it to Mrs.
Slick. The poor woman received it with a look of disappointment, and
said, with a slight shudder--

"And is this all you can do, Mr. Todd?" "All!" cried Todd. "All? Good gracious, what more do you want? Recollect, my good woman, that there is another world where the poor
will have their reward, provided that in this they are not too annoying
to the rich and the comfortable. Go away. Dear--dear, and this is
gratitude. I must go and pray for the hardness of heart and the Egyptian
darkness of the common and the lower orders in general, and you in
particular, Mrs. Slick." The woman was terrified at the extraordinary faces that Todd made during
the delivery of this harangue, and hastily left the shop, having dropped
the "Spiritual Quartern Loaf for Hungry Sinners" in the doorway. "Ha! ha!" said Todd when she was gone. "They thought of their father,
did they, while they ate Lovett's pies. Ha! ha!" At this moment a man made his appearance in the shop, and looked with a
sly twinkle at Sweeney Todd. The latter started, for in that man he
imagined no other than an under attendant at the establishment of Mr.
Fogg, at Peckham. That this man came with some message from Fogg, he did
not for a moment doubt, but what could it possibly be, since he (Todd)
fully believed that Tobias Ragg was no more. "Do you know me?" said the man. As a general proposition, Todd did not like to say yes to anything, so
he looked dubious, and remarked that he thought it might rain soon, but
if he (the man) wanted a clean shave, he (Todd) would soon do for him. "But, really, Mr. Todd, don't you know me?" "I know nobody," said Todd. The man chuckled with a hideous grimace, that seemed habitual to him,
for he at times indulged in it, when, to all appearance, no subject
whatever of hilarity was on the topic, and then he said--

"I come from Fogg." "Fogg's, not Fogg?" The man did not at first seem to understand this nice distinction that
Todd drew between coming from Fogg's establishment and coming from Fogg
himself; but after knitting his brows, and considering a little, he
said--

"Oh--ah--I see. No, I don't come from Fogg, confound him, he don't use
me well, so I thought I'd come to tell you--"

The shop door opened, and a stout burly-looking man made his appearance. Todd turned upon him, with a face livid with passion, as he said--

"Well, sir, what now?" "Eh?" said the stout burly man. "Ain't this a barber's shop?" "To be sure it is; and, once for all, do you want to be shaved, or do
you not?" "Why, what else could I come in for?" "I don't know; but you have been here more than once--more than
twice--more than thrice, and yet you have never been shaved yet." "Well, that is a good one." "A good what?" "Mistake, for I have only just come to London to-day; but I'll wait
while you shave this gentleman. I am in no hurry." "No, sir," said Todd; "this gentleman is a private friend of mine, and
don't come to be shaved at all." The stout burly-looking man seemed rather confused for a moment, and
then he turned to the stranger, and said--

"Are you really a private friend of Mr. Todd's?" "Very," said the other. "Then I scorn to interrupt any one in their confidential discourse, just
because my beard happens to be a day old. No; I trust that time, and old
English politeness, will ever prevent me from doing such a thing; so,
Mr. Todd, I will look in upon some other occasion, if you please." "No--no," said Todd, "sit down: business is business. Pray sit down. You
don't know how disappointed I shall feel if I don't polish you off, now
that you are here, sir." "Could not think of it," said the other, in whom the reader has, no
doubt, recognised one of Sir Richard Blunt's officers. "Could not for a
moment think of it. Good day." Before Todd could utter another remonstrance, he was out of the shop,
and when he got about twelve paces off, he met Crotchet, who said--

"Well, what do yer bring it in now?" "I must cut it. Todd is beginning to recollect me, and to think there is
something odd going on." Mr. Crotchet gave a slight whistle, and then said--

"Wery good; but did you leave a _hindevidel_ in the shaving crib, to be
done for?" "Yes; but he said he was a private friend of Todd's." "Good agin, that will do. He's safe enough, I dare say, and if he isn't,
why he ought to be more _petikler_ in a-dressing of his acquaintances. Do you know where the governor is?" "No. I have not seen him; but will you tell him, Crotchet, why I think
it's better for me to be scarce for a day or two?" "To be sure, old fellow. You can go on some other day." "Surely--surely." CHAPTER LXI. TODD RECEIVES SOME STARTLING INTELLIGENCE. It took Todd, master as he was, or used to be, in the art of
dissimulation, some few minutes to recover his composure, after the
officer had left the shop, and during that time, the gentleman from
Fogg's looked at him with the quiet sniggering kind of laugh so peculiar
to him. Todd was evidently, day by day, losing that amount of nerve
which had at one time formed his principal characteristic. It was
getting, in fact, clear to himself that he was not near so well fitted
for the business he was carrying on as he had been.