Mrs. Stag drank off the full glass that Todd presented her with, and then affecting to pour one out for himself, but dexterously keeping the bottle between him and the lady, he only carried the empty glass to his lips. Now, Mrs. Stag was a decided connoisseur in gin, and she suddenly assumed a thoughtful air, and looked up to the ceiling as she slightly moved her lips.
"Rather an unusual taste after it's down, don't you think, sir?" she said.
"Has it? Well, I don't know. Perhaps you have been tasting a pie, madam, and that may have influenced the flavour. Try it again. You never can tell the taste of a glass of gin, in my opinion, until you have taken two at least. Try this, Mrs. Stag."
"Really I—I. Thank you, sir."
Off went a second glass, and then Todd glared at her with the eyes of a fiend, as he said, placing the bottle upon the counter, "That ought to be a dose, I think."
"Sir?" stammered Mrs. Stag. "I—I—God bless me—I—sir—gin—I—that is lots of pies—gin—gravy. Mrs. Lovett—in the crown of a bonnet—I—my dear, my dear—Bless us all. Lock it all up—no—no—no. Gin—I—good again—Pies—gravy."
Todd caught her by the throat or she would have fallen; and then, as she became quite insensible, he thrust her under the counter.
Todd Performs An Operation On Mrs. Stag.