"Good night," said Todd. "I hope you may have the luck of meeting with this Todd, and so earning the five hundred pounds you mention; but I am afraid, after all, there is not much chance, for I heard he had gone down to the coast, and had got on board a vessel and was off by this time. That may not be true, though. Goodnight!"
CHAPTER CXLIII.
TODD TAKES A LOOK AT HIS OLD QUARTERS IN FLEET STREET.
The village of Hampstead was, at the time of which we write, really a village. It still retains many of its old houses and picturesque beauties, but it is not quite such a little retired spot as it was. If ever any one walked through Hampstead, however, who was less inclined than another to pause and speculate upon its beauties, certainly that man was our doubtful acquaintance, Sweeney Todd.
He did not think it quite prudent to stop in the High Street to solace himself with any worldly comforts, although he saw several public-houses very temptingly open, but passing right on, he descended Red Lion Hill, and paused at a little inn at the foot of it, that is to say, on the London side of the pretty village.
Brandy was Todd's request, and he was met by a prompt, "Yes, sir;" but Todd had, among his varied experiences, to find out what Hampstead brandy was, and the moment he placed a portion of it in his mouth, his eyes goggled furiously, and spitting it out, he said, in a voice of anger—
"This is some mistake."
"Mistake, sir?"
"Yes; I asked for brandy, and you have given me the rinsings of some bottles and dirty glasses."
"Oh, dear no, sir; that brandy is the very best that you will get in all Hampstead."
"The best in all Hampstead!" repeated Todd, with a groan; "what must the worst be, I wonder?"