"A guinea, sir."
"Exactly. It was a guinea, of course. This way, my friend, this way. Don't fall over the shaving-chair, I beg of you. You can't hurt it, for it is a fixture; but you might hurt yourself, and that is of more importance to you, you know. While we do live in this world, if it be for ever so short a time, we may as well live comfortably."
Talking away thus all suspicion from the man who was not one of the brightest of geniuses in the world, Todd led the way to the parlour—that fatal parlour which had been the last scene of more than one mortal life.
He closed the door, and then in quite a good-humoured way, he pointed to the seat, saying—
"Rest yourself, my friend—rest yourself, while I get out the bottle. And so it is one guinea that I am to give you, eh?"
"Yes, sir; and all I can say is that I am very glad to hear that you and Mrs. Lovett have made matters all right again. Very glad, indeed, sir, I may say. In course, I shouldn't have took the liberty of sitting down by your door, sir, if she had not told me to watch the house and let her know, if so, be as you come out of it, or if I saw any packages moving. She didn't say anything to me what it was for; but a guinea is just as well earned easy as not, you see, sir!"
"Certainly, my friend, certainly. Drink that."
The man tossed off the glass of something that Todd gave him, and then he licked his lips, as he said—
"What is it, sir? It's strong, but I can't say, for my part, that I like the flavour of it much."
"Not like it?"