During his career in the shop in Fleet Street, he had collected a number
of watches from the pockets of the murdered persons, but he had always
been afraid to attempt the disposal of the best of them. The fact was, that at that time everybody had not a watch as at present. It was an expensive article, and Mr. So-and-so's watch was as well known
as Mr. So-and-so himself; so that it would have been one of the most
hazardous things possible for Todd to have brought suspicion upon
himself by going about disposing of the watches of his victims. It was
the same, too, with some other costly articles, such as rings, lockets,
and so on; and as he had realised as much money as he could previous to
his arrangements for leaving England, Todd had left some of this
description of property to perish in the fire, which he hoped to be the
means of igniting in old Fleet Street upon his departure. Now, as he crept along by Tottenham-Court-Road, he mused upon the state
of things. "If," he muttered, "I could only get into my late house in Fleet Street,
I know where to lay my hand upon portable property, which was not worth
my consideration while I had thousands of pounds in gold, but which now
would be a fortune to me in my reduced circumstances. If I could but lay
my hand upon it!" The more Todd thought over this proposition, the more pleased he was
with it; and by the time he had indulged himself with two more glasses
of brandy, it began to assume, to his mind, a much more tangible shape. "It may be done," he said, "it surely may be done. If I could only make
my way in the church it might be done well, and surely one of these
picklocks that I have about me might enable me to do that." The picklock he alluded to was one that he had put in his pocket to
accommodate Mr. Lupin, when they were both so intent upon their escape
from Newgate, and when Mr. Lupin was foolish enough to believe that Todd
really had two thousand pounds buried in Caen Wood, Hampstead. There was
one thing, however, which made Todd pause. He did not think he was
sufficiently disguised to venture into the locality of his old
residence, and, unfortunately for him, he was rather a peculiar-looking
man. His great chance, however, was, that in Fleet Street surely no one
would now think of looking for Sweeney Todd. "I must be bold," he said, "I must be bold and resolute. It will not do
to shrink now. I will buy a knife." This was a pleasant idea to Todd. Buying a knife seemed almost like
getting half-way to his revenge, and he went into an obscure cutler's
shop, and bought a long double-edged knife, for which he gave two
shillings. He then carefully concealed it in his clothing. After this, he hit upon a plan of operations which he thought would have
the effect of disguising him. At that period, wigs were so commonly worn
that it was nothing at all particular for a person to go into a
wig-makers, and select one--put it on--pay for it--and go away! "Yes," said Todd, "I will buy a wig; for I have art enough and knowledge
of wigs to enable me to do so--as shall produce the greatest possible
change in my appearance. A wig, a wig will be the thing." Todd had hardly well made this declaration than he came upon a
wig-makers, and in he went. Pointing to a wig that was on a block, and
which had a very clerical kind of look, he inquired the price of it. "Oh, my dear sir," said the wig-maker, "that is much too old looking a
perriwig for you. Let me recommend you a much younger wig. Now, sir,
here's one that will take a matter of ten years off your age in a
moment." Todd had discretion enough to know well that he could not make up young,
so he merely pointed to the wig again and enquired the price. "Well, sir, it is a couple of guineas, but--"

Without another word, Todd laid down the couple of guineas, and putting
the wig upon his head he left the shop, certainly having given the
wig-maker an impression that he was the oddest customer he had had for
some time; but little did he suspect that that odd customer was the
criminal with whose name all London was ringing, and upon whose
head--with or without a wig--so heavy a price was set. After this, Todd made his way to a shop where second-hand clothing was
bought and sold, and there he got accommodated with an old gray coat
that reached down to the calves of his legs, and he bought likewise a
very voluminous white cravat; and when he got into the street with these
articles, and purchased at another shop a walking cane, with a great
silver top to it, and put one hand behind his back and stooped very
much, and moved along as if he were afflicted with all the corns and
bunions that his toes could carry, and by bending his knees, decreased
his height six inches, no one could have known him. At least, so Todd flattered himself. In this way he tottered on until he got to the immediate neighbourhood
of Fleet Street. To be sure, with all his coolness and courage, he could
not help shaking a little when he came to that well remembered
neighbourhood. "And I," he thought to himself, "and I by this time hoped and expected
to be far over the sea, instead of being such a wretch as I am now,
crawling about, as it were, amid pitfalls and all sorts of dangers! Alas! alas!" He really shook now, and it was quite astonishing how, with his old wig,
and his old gray coat and his stick, and his stooping posture, old and
venerable, yes, positively venerable, Sweeney Todd actually looked. "Ain't you well, sir?" said a respectable man, stepping up to him. "Can
I assist you?" Todd perpetrated about half a dozen wheezing coughs, and then, not sorry
for an opportunity of trying his powers of imitation of age, he replied
in a tremulous voice--

"Ah, sir! Yes--old age--old age, sir--eugh!--eugh!--oh, dear me, I feel
that I am on my last legs, and that they are on the shake--old age, sir,
will come on; but it's a comfort to look back upon a long life well
spent in deeds of charity!" "Not a doubt of it," said the stranger. "I was only afraid, sir, you
were taken suddenly ill, as you stood there." "Oh, no--no--eugh!--no. Thank you, sir." "Good evening, sir." "Good evening, my good sir. Oh, if I had you only in my old shop with a
razor at your throat, wouldn't I polish you off!" muttered Todd, as the
stranger left him. In the course of another minute, Todd was on the Fleet Street side of
Temple Bar. He could almost see his old house--that house in which he had passed
years of deep iniquity, and which he had hoped, ere that time, would
have been a heap of ruins. There it was, tall, dismal, and gaunt
looking. The clock of St. Dunstan's struck eleven. "Eleven," he muttered. "A good hour. The streets are getting deserted
now, and no one will know me. I will stoop yet more, and try to look
older--older still."