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. Todd could, of course, from where he was, hear, with the greatest clearness and precision, every word that they said to each other, as they walked up the aisle.
Todd Sets Fire To His House, Then Hides Himself In St. Dunstan's Pulpit.
One of the persons who were coming with the beadle to view the fire from the tower of the church went on speaking to his companions.
"And so," he said, "I think, if no one be hurt, and the fire can be kept just within the limits of Todd's house, it will be no bad thing to have a place that is such a continual reminder of atrocious guilt, swept from the face of the earth."
"Yes," said the other, "the only pity is, that Sweeney Todd is not in it to go with it. Then the good thing would be complete."
"It would, gentlemen," said the beadle. "Oh, when you comes to think of what he did and what he might have done—Oh, it makes my hair stand o' end, and my parochial blood curdle, to think of what he might have done, gentlemen."
"He could not do worse than he did."