And now, as he had done before, he kept his arms outstretched before him
to prevent him from injuring himself against any of the walls or the
abrupt turnings in the passages between his own house and old St.
Dunstan's. He stooped, likewise, in order that he might not strike his
head against the roof at in places where it was very low, and rough, and
rugged. Once only Todd got a little bewildered, and did not well know his way,
and then he ignited one of the matches, and by its small light he saw in
a moment which way he was to go. "All is well," he said, and he rushed on; but yet he began to be a
little surprised that he heard no noise from the house--no sound of the
explosion; and inclining his ear to the ground, he stopped in one of the
old vaults to listen. A low moaning sound came upon his ears like the muttering of distant
thunder, and then a report as though some heavy piece of timber had
fallen from a great height to the earth. He fancied that the vault in
which he was shook a little, and in terror he rushed forward. The
gunpowder had exploded in the cupboard, and Todd's imagination was left
to revel in the thought of the mischief which it had done to the house
and to all within it. In five minutes more he reached the foot of the little flight of
stone-steps that led to the church. All was profoundly dark still, as he
thought; but he had not got up above six of those steps when he became
conscious that the light of early dawn had already found its way through
the windows of the church, and was making everything within it dimly
visible. Todd recoiled at this. He and daylight were decidedly not upon
good terms with each other by any means. "It is morning--it is morning!" he exclaimed. "What will become of me
now? It is light." He staggered right back into the vaults again, and there gave himself to
painful thought for awhile; as he did so, he heard loud shouts in the
streets--shouts that awakened echoes in the old church; and if anything
could have given to Todd, at such a time as that, very great
satisfaction, it was to hear that those shouts were all commingled with
the one prevailing cry of--"Fire--fire--fire!" That was a joy, indeed,
to him. "It burns--it burns!" he said; "but I am here a prisoner; I dare not go
out into the daylight; but the old house, with all that it contains, is
wrapped in flames, and that is much--much! It is now everything. Oh,
that I could hear the cries of those who find themselves wrapped up in
the unappeasable element, and have no means of escape! They would,
indeed, be music to my ears." This state of mental exultation passed away very quickly, as it was sure
to do, and gave place to the most lively fears for his own personal
safety; for, after all, that was the great thing with Todd--at least it
was while any portion of his deep revenges remained yet to be
accomplished. "What shall I do?" That was the question that he kept repeating to
himself. "What shall I do?" He advanced now right up the steps into the
body of the church. There, at least, he knew that he was safe for the
present; and as he stood and listened, he thought that in the bustle and
in the confusion that men's minds were in regarding the fire, he might
emerge from the church and no one notice him, and fairly get away
without observation. If he only got a few streets off it would be
sufficient, and he should be able to tell himself that he had indeed and
in truth escaped. With these thoughts and feelings, he approached the church door. The nearer he got to the old doors of St. Dunstan, the more appallingly
and distinctly there came upon his ears the cries and the shouts of the
people who were hurrying to the fire, and he muttered to himself--

"Ah, it must be blazing briskly now--very briskly. It must be quite a
sight to the whole of London to see the old den burning so bravely." An engine came rattling on, and with a roar and a crash went past the
church door. "Capital!" said Todd. "Upon my word this is capital!" Another engine, with the horses at a mad gallop, went by, and Todd quite
rubbed his hands at the idea of the scene of confusion that he had by
his own unaided efforts succeed in making in old Fleet Street. "They did not think," he said, "when they closed the gates of the old
prison upon me, and told me I should die, that there was one half the
mischief in me yet that they now find there is. Ay, and there is much
more yet, that they dream not of, but which they shall know some day." He laid his hand upon the lock of the church door. A long ray of the
faint early gray light of dawn streamed through the massive keyhole, and
at the moment Todd laid his hand upon the lock that ray of light
vanished. It was obstructed by some one on the outside. He recoiled
several steps, and then from the outside he heard a voice say--

"Lor bless us, yes, it's that old villain Todd's house, gentlemen, in
course. It's come to a bad end, like its master will come to, if he
hasn't. When I saw the flames and heard 'em a-roaring, I said to my
missus 'Conwulsions!' says I, 'if that ain't Todd's house in a blaze.'" "You are right, Mr. Beadle," said a voice in reply. "Yes, gentlemen, perhaps I says it as oughtn't to say it, but I is
commonly right in my way, you know, gentlemen; and so, as I says,
'Conwulsions! It's Todd's house a fire.'" "And you think," said another voice, "we shall get a good view of it
from the old church tower?" "Yes, gentlemen," replied the beadle, whom the reader will not fail to
recognise as our old acquaintance. "Yes, gentlemen. I'll warrant as you
will get a capital view from the top of the old tower, where I will take
you. Lor a _mussy_, how it is a _roorin_, that fire! I know'd it was
Todd's house, and I said to my missus, 'Conwulsions!' says I, 'that's
old villanous Todd's house a-fire!'" Todd ground his teeth together with rage as he listened to this; but he
felt that if he would provide for his own safety, there was indeed now
no time to lose, and he rapidly retreated into the body of the church. His first thought was to hide himself in one of the pews, but the
divisions between them were not so high as to prevent a person of very
moderate height indeed from looking over one of them, and there was
quite light enough now for any one in such a case to have seen him, if
they had chosen to glance into the pew in which he might take shelter. The case was urgent, however, and he had not much time for thought, so
being close to the pulpit he ran up its steps, opened the little door,
and ensconced himself within it in a moment. There, at all events, he felt that he was hidden securely from any
merely casual observation. The church door was opened almost before he could get the pulpit door
shut; but he did manage to close it, and he was satisfied that he had
done so without exciting the attention of those who were entering the
church.