"Very well, then. In the first place, Mr. Francis Thornhill reached London in safety."
"He did?"
"I tell you so. He arrived in London with your String of Pearls in his pocket. He fully believed you were dead. Indeed, he fancied that he had seen the last of you, and was quite prepared to say as much to Miss Johanna Oakley."
"And he did? That will be some excuse for her, if she thought that I was gone."
"No, he did not. On his route he turned into the shop of Sweeney Todd to be shaved, and there he was murdered."
"Murdered!"
"Yes, most foully murdered; and the String of Pearls got into the possession of that man, proving ultimately one of the means by which his frightful villainous crime came to light. The dog remained at Todd's door seeking for its master, to the great discomfiture of the murderer, who made every effort within his power for its destruction, in which however he did not succeed."
"Gracious Heaven! my poor friend Thornhill to meet with such a fate! Oh God! and all on account of that fatal String of Pearls! Oh, Thornhill—Thornhill! rather would I have sunk for ever beneath the wave, than such a dreadful end should have been yours."
"The past cannot be recalled," said Sir Richard. "It is only with the present, and with the future that we have anything to do now. Would you like to hear more?"
"More? Of whom? Is he not dead?—my poor friend?"