"In case I want to say anything?" said Todd.
"Yes, to be sure. What, are you asleep?"
"Am I asleep?"
"Why, he's gone a little bit out of his mind," said the blacksmith, as he gathered up his tools to be gone.
The turnkey shook his head.
"Are you quite sure you have made a tight job of that?"
"Sure? Ay, that I am. If he gets out of them, put me in 'em, that's all. Oh, no! It would take—let me see—it would take about half a dozen of him to twist out o' that suit of armour. They are just about the best we have in the old stone jug."
"Good."
"Yes, they are good."
"I mean very well. And now Mr. Sweeney Todd, we will leave you to your own reflections, old boy, and much good may they do you. Good-night, old fellow. I always says good-night to the prisoners, cos it has a tender sort o' sound, and disposes of 'em to sleep. It's kind o' me, but I always was tender-hearted, as any little chick, I was."