"Sweeney Todd, you have been by an impartial and patient jury, convicted upon the clearest evidence of the murder of Francis Thornhill. Have you anything to say why sentence of death, according to the law, should not be passed forthwith upon you?"
Todd did not seem to understand the question, and the Governor of Newgate repeated it to him. He started then, and glared at the judge, as in a deep hollow voice, he said—
"Death! death!—Did you say death?"
"Such says the law—not I. If you have anything to say why that sentence should not be pronounced against you, now is your only time in which to say it."
Todd passed his hand twice across his brow before he spoke, and then, in a vehement voice, he said—
"It is false—all false. I did not kill the man. There is a vile conspiracy against me. I say I did not do it. Who saw me—what eye was upon me? I was at chapel—at prayers, when you say among you that I did it. It is a plot—nothing but a plot from first to last. You would make me the victim of it among you. Who saw me kill him? I know nothing of hidden places in the old house. It is not true, I say. A plot—a vile plot for my destruction."
"Have you finished?" said the judge.
"Have I not said enough? I know nothing of it. I am a poor man, and strive to get a living as best I might, and among you now you bring a bone from some churchyard to kill me with. You swear anything—I know you all well. If the man you say I killed be really dead, I here at this moment summon his spirit from another world, to come and bear witness for me that I did not kill him!"
These last words Todd yelled out in such a tone of frantic passion, that everybody looked aghast; and more than once, more than commonly superstitious spectators thought that the appeal to the beings of a supernatural world might yet be answered in some way.
There was a death-like stillness in the court for some few moments, and then the Governor of Newgate in a whisper, said to Todd—