"Sir Richard Blunt has kindly promised to give this to you, and you know that I am—Your ever affectionate
Arabella."
"Yes," said Johanna, when she had finished the epistle. "In truth I know you are ever my affectionate Arabella, and I am most happy in such a friend. But this must not meet Todd's eye. Ah! that footstep, I know it too well. He comes—he comes."
She had just hidden the letter, when Sweeney Todd made his appearance.
"Anybody been?" he asked.
"Yes, one man, but he would not wait."
"Ah, wanted to be shaved, I suppose; but no matter—no matter; and I hope you have been quiet, and not been attempting to indulge your curiosity in any way, since I have been gone. Hush! here's somebody coming. Why, it's old Mr. Wrankley, the tobacconist, I declare. Good-day to you, sir—shaved, I suppose? I'm glad you have come, sir, for I have been out till this moment. Hot water, Charley, directly, and hand me that razor."
Johanna, in handing Todd the razor, knocked the edge of it against the chair, and it being uncommonly sharp, cut a great slice of the wood off one of the arms of it.
"What shameful carelessness," said Todd; "I have half a mind to lay the strop over your back, sir; here you have spoilt a capital razor—not a bit of edge left upon it."
"Oh, excuse him, Mr. Todd—excuse him," said the old gentleman; "he's only a little lad, after all. Let me intercede for him."