"Hush—hush!" he then said. "Hush! I must be very cautious now—very cautious, indeed. Hush—hush!"
He then, in a tone of voice that he strove to make as different as possible from his ordinary tone, and which he was very successful indeed in doing, he said—
"Who is there?"
"It's me," said a voice, in defiance of all probability or grammar. "It's only me."
"Oh! what a mercy," said Todd.
"Open the door. Is it you, Joe? Why didn't you come home, eh? You might have got away easy enough. I have brought you something good to eat, old fellow, and some news."
"Ah, what news, my boy?"
"Why, they say that old Todd is in London."
Todd fell to the floor in a sitting posture, and uttered a deep groan. It was some few moments before he could summon strength and courage to speak to the man again. But he began to feel the necessity of doing something, for the man began to hammer away at the door, and the very worst thing that could happen to Todd, just then, would have been that man going away from the door of the shop with an impression that all was not right within it, and spreading an alarm to that effect.
"I will open the door just wide enough," muttered Todd, "and then I will drag him in and cut his throat, and throw him down into the cellar along with the two others. That will only make three this morning—yes, this morning, I may say, for it is morning now."