"A pious lad!" ejaculated Ben. "Pious—oh—oh. Pious!"
"Shaved this morning, sir?" said Todd, appearing at his door with a razor in his hand. "Shaved or dressed? Polish you off surprisingly, in no time, sir."
"Eh?"
"Walk in, sir—walk in. A nice comfortable shave makes a man feel quite another thing. Pray walk in, sir. I think I have had the pleasure of seeing you before."
Ben cast an indignant look at Sweeney Todd; and then, as upon the spur of the moment—for Ben was rather a shrewd thinker—he could not find anything strong enough to say, he wisely held his peace, and walked on. Todd looked after him with a savage scowl.
"Not much plunder," he muttered, "but suitable enough in another point of view. Well—well, we shall see—we shall see."
Ben continued his course towards the city, ever and anon repeating as he went—"A pious lad!—a pious lad. Oh, the rascal."
When he reached within a few doors of the spectacle-maker's, he saw a boy with a letter in his hand looking about him, and probably seeing that Ben had a good-humoured countenance, he said to him—
"If you please, sir, can you tell me which is Mr. Oakley's?"
"Yes, to be sure. Is that letter for him?"