"Not a doubt of it. But you asked me what Todd was like, and I'll tell you, sir. He was nigh upon six feet high, and his face was two feet of it. He was just as ugly as any one you would wish to see for a pattern in that way, and that's his house where he murdered all the people."
"Peace be to their souls!"
"Amen! And there are underground places that lead right away through the vaults of St. Dunstan's to Bell-yard, where Mrs. Lovett's pie-shop was, you know, sir."
"I have heard. Ah, dear—dear, I have heard. A very wicked woman, indeed—very wicked; and yet, sir, it is to be hoped she has found mercy in another world."
"There would need be plenty of it," said the man with the pipe, "if Mrs. Lovett is to be accommodated with any."
"My friend," said Todd, "don't be profane; and now I must go, as I don't like being out late."
"And so must I, for my pipe's out. I shall turn in, now. Good night, sir, and a pleasant walk home to you."
"Thank you, sir, thank you—eugh! eugh! I think if it were not for my cough, I should do very well."
Todd hobbled away, and the man, who lived in Bouverie Street, went home. Todd had not got any real information from this man; but the brief conversation he had had with him, had given him a sort of confidence in his disguise, and in his power of acting, that he had not had before, so that, upon the whole, he was not sorry for the little incident.
And now it was quite evident that the streets were getting very much deserted. During the whole length of Fleet Street there was not half a dozen persons to be seen at all, and Todd, after casting a rapid glance around him to note if he were observed, suddenly crossed the way, and boldly went up to the door of old St. Dunstan's Church.