"I am willing to swear to it. Release me from here and take me to any court of justice you please, and I will affirm it. If you have any suspicion of my good faith, manacle me—bind me up in iron until I tell all."
"I am convinced."
"Oh, joy, I shall look upon the blessed sun again. I shall see the green fields—I shall hear the lark sing, and drink in the odour of sweet flowers. I—I am not quite desolate."
Sir Richard Blunt could hear him sobbing like a child. The magistrate did not interrupt this burst of feeling. He was, on the contrary, quite glad to be a witness of it, for it convinced him of the sincerity of the man. He could not think it possible he should find attending upon Mrs. Lovett's ovens so consummate an actor as it would have taken to play that part. After a few moments, however, he spoke, saying—
"Now, my friend, are you one who will listen to reason in preference to merely acting upon the feelings and suggestions of the moment?"
"I hope so."
"Well, then, I think I could set you free to-night, but to do so would materially interfere with the course of that justice which is about speedily to overtake Mrs. Lovett. By remaining here you will keep things as they are for the present, and that, I assure you, is a great object. You say that while you continue making pies, your life is not in positive peril; I ask of you, for the sake of justice, to put up with your present position a short time longer."
"Liberty is sweet."
"It is, but you would not like such a woman as Mrs. Lovett to take the alarm and escape the consequences of her crimes."
"Oh! no—no. I will remain. For how long will it be?"