"Speak then. Has Todd been here?"
"In course, and quite a nice man—I—I may say—quite a gin—I mean a nice man—a cordial old Tom. No! Cream of the—Todd."
"Wretch!"
Mrs. Lovett paced the shop for a few moments in an agony of rage. Todd presuming upon her death had actually been there, no doubt upon an expedition to ransack the place. A touch to the lock of the parlour door, told her at once that it was open, and from that moment she no longer could doubt but that the whole house had been subject to the scrutiny of Sweeney Todd.
"The wretch!" she said. "He thought to find enough no doubt to reward his pains, but he has been deceived in that hope, I feel well assured. What I have here, I have too well hidden for any search of a few hours to find it. If they were to pull the house to pieces, brick by brick and timber by timber, they might find something to pay them for their labour."
The lady with the partiality for gin, now seemed to be lapsing into a state of somnolency, but Mrs. Lovett gave her rather a rough shake.
"Tell me," she said, "when did this man come, and what did he say to you?"
"Gin!"
"I ask you what Todd said to you?"
"Oh, yes. I—really—fine times. Old Tom Todd—cream of the Todd."