The Penny Dreadfuls MEGAPACK™

by Oscar Wilde

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘About him. I tore his clothes to ribbons. A pretty figure he looked upon horseback, I assure you. By Jove, I could hardly help laughing at him; in fact, I did laugh at him, which so enraged him, that he immediately threatened to horsewhip me, and yet he dared not defend his money; but I threatened to shoot him, and that soon brought him to his senses.’

  ‘I should imagine so. Did you ever have a fight for it?’ enquired Sweeney Todd.

  ‘Yes, several times. Ah! it’s by no means an easy life, you may depend. It is free, but dangerous. I have been fired at six or seven times.

  ‘So many?’

  ‘Yes. I was near York once, when I stopped a gentleman; I thought him an easy conquest, but not so he turned out, for he was a regular devil.’

  ‘Resisted you?’

  ‘Yes, he did. I was coming along when I met him, and I demanded his money.

  ‘”I can keep it myself,” he said, “and do not want any assistance to take care of it.”

  ‘”But I want it,” said I; “your money or your life.”

  ‘”You must have both, for we are not to be parted,” he said, presenting his pistol at me; and then I had only time to escape from the effect of the shot. I struck the pistol up with my riding-whip, and the bullet passed by my temples, and almost stunned me.

  ‘I cocked and fired; he did the same, but I hit him, and he fell. He fired, however, but missed me. I was down upon him; he begged hard for life.’

  ‘Did you give it him?’

  ‘Yes; I dragged him to one side of the road, and then left him.

  ‘Having done so much I mounted my horse, and came away as fast as I could, and then I made for London, and spent a merry day or two there.

  ‘I can imagine you must enjoy your trips into the country, and then you must have still greater relish for the change when you come to London—the change is so great and so entire.’

  ‘So it is; but have you never any run of luck in your line? I should think you must at times succeed in tricking the public.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Todd, ‘now and then we—but I tell you it is only now and then; and I have been afraid of doing too much. To small sums I have been a gainer; but I want to do something grand. I tried it on, but at the same time I have failed.’

  ‘That is bad; but you may have more opportunities by and by. Luck is all chance.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Todd, ‘that is true, but the sooner the better, for I am growing impatient.’

  Conversation now went on; each man speaking of his exploits, which were always some species of rascality and robbery accompanied by violence generally; some were midnight robbers and breakers into people’s houses; in fact, all the crimes that could be imagined.

  This place was, in fact, a complete home or rendezvous for thieves, cutpurses, highwaymen, footpads, and burglars of every grade and description—a formidable set of men of the most determined and desperate appearance.

  Sweeney Todd knew hardly how to rise and leave the place, though it was now growing very late, and he was most anxious to get safe out of the den he was in; but how to do that was a problem yet to be solved.

  ‘What is the time?’ he muttered to the man next to him.

  ‘Past midnight,’ was the reply.

  ‘Then I must leave here,’ he answered, ‘for I have work that I must be at in a very short time, and I shall not have too much time.’

  So saying he watched his opportunity, and rising, walked up to the door, which he opened, and went out; after that he walked up the five steps that led to the passage, and this latter had hardly been gained when the street-door opened, and another man came in at the same moment, and met him face to face.

  ‘What do you here?’

  ‘I am going out,’ said Sweeney Todd.

  ‘You are going back: come back with me.’

  ‘I will not,’ said Todd. ‘You must be a better man than I am, if you make me do my best to resist your attack, if you intend to make one.’

  ‘That I do,’ replied the man; and he made a determined rush upon Sweeney, who was scarcely prepared for such a sudden onslaught, and was pushed back till he came to the head of the stairs, where a struggle took place, and both rolled down the steps. The door was immediately thrown open, and everyone rushed out to see what was the matter, but it was some moments before they could make it out.

  ‘What does he do here?’ said the first, as soon as he could speak, and pointing to Sweeney Todd.

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘All wrong, I say.’

  ‘He’s a sham pearl-maker, and has shown us a string of sham pearls that are beautiful.’

  ‘Psha!’

  ‘I will insist on seeing them; give them to me,’ he said, ‘or you do not leave this place.’

  ‘I will not,’ said Sweeney.

  ‘You must. Here, help me—but I don’t want help, I can do it by myself.’

  As he spoke, he made a desperate attempt to collar Sweeney and pull him to the earth, but he had miscalculated his strength when he imagined that he was superior to Todd, who was by far the more powerful man of the two, and resisted the attack with success.

  Suddenly, by a herculean effort, he caught his adversary below the waist, and lifting him up, he threw him upon the floor with great force; and then, not wishing to see how the gang would take this—whether they would take the part of their companion or of himself he knew not—he thought he had an advantage in the distance, and he rushed upstairs as fast as he could, and reached the door before they could overtake him to prevent him.

  Indeed, for more than a minute they were irresolute what to do; but they were somehow prejudiced in favour of their companion, and they rushed up after Sweeney just as he got to the door.

  He would have had time to escape them; but, by some means, the door became fast, and he could not open it, exert himself how he would.

  There was no time to lose; they were coming to the head of the stairs, and Sweeney had hardly time to reach the stairs, to fly upwards, when he felt himself grasped by the throat.

  This he soon released himself from; for he struck the man who seized him a heavy blow, and he fell backwards, and Todd found his way up to the first floor, but he was closely pursued.

  Here was another struggle; and again Sweeney Todd was the victor, but he was hard pressed by those who followed him—fortunately for him there was a mop left in a pail of water, this he seized hold of, and, swinging it over his head, he brought it full on the head of the first man who came near him.

  Dab it came, soft and wet, and splashed over some others who were close at hand.

  It is astonishing what an effect a new weapon will sometimes have. There was not a man among them who would not have faced danger in more ways than one, that would not have rushed headlong upon deadly and destructive weapons, but who were quite awed when a heavy wet mop was dashed into their faces.

  They were completely paralysed for a moment; indeed, they began to look upon it something between a joke and a serious matter, and either would have been taken just as they might be termed.

  ‘Get the pearls!’ shouted the man who had first stopped him; ‘seize the spy! seize him—secure him—rush at him! You are men enough to hold one man!’

  Sweeney Todd saw matters were growing serious, and he plied his mop most vigorously upon those who were ascending, but they had become somewhat used to the mop, and it had lost much of its novelty, and was by no means a dangerous weapon.

  They rushed on, despite the heavy blows showered by Sweeney, and he was compelled to give way stair after stair.

  The head of the mop came off, and then there remained but the handle, which formed an efficient weapon, and which made fearful havoc of the heads of the assailants; and despite all that their slouched hats could do in the way of protecting th
em, yet the staff came with a crushing effect.

  The best fight in the world cannot last for ever; and Sweeney again found numbers were not to be resisted for long; indeed, he could not have physical energy enough to sustain his own efforts, supposing he had received no blows in return.

  He turned and fled as he was forced back to the landing, and then came to the next stair-head, and again he made a desperate stand.

  This went on for stair after stair, and continued for more than two or three hours.

  There were moments of cessation when they all stood still and looked at each other.

  ‘Fire upon him!’ said one.

  ‘No, no; we shall have the authorities down upon us, and then all will go wrong.’

  ‘I think we had much better have let it alone in the first place, as he was in, for you may be sure this won’t make him keep a secret; we shall all be split upon as sure as fate.’

  ‘Well, then, rush upon him and down with him. Never let him out! On to him! Hurrah!’

  Away they went, but they were resolutely met by the staff of Sweeney Todd, who had gained new strength by the short rest he had had.

  ‘Down with the spy!’

  This was shouted out by the men, but as each of them approached, they were struck down, and at length finding himself on the second floor landing, and being fearful that someone was descending from above, he rushed into one of the inner rooms.

  In an instant he had locked the doors, which were strong and powerful.

  ‘Now,’ he muttered, ‘for means to escape.’

  He waited a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, and then he crossed the floor to the windows, which were open.

  They were the old-fashion bag-windows, with the heavy ornamental work which some houses possessed, and overhung the low doorways, and protected them from the weather.

  ‘This will do,’ he said, as he looked down to the pavement—‘this will do. I will try this descent, if I fall.’

  The people on the other side of the door were exerting all their force to break it open, and it had already given one or two ominous creaks, and a few minutes more would probably let them into the room.

  The streets were clear—no human being was moving about, and there were faint signs of the approach of morning. He paused a moment to inhale the fresh air, and then he got outside of the window.

  By means of the sound oaken ornaments, he contrived to get down to the drawing-room balcony, and then he soon got down into the street.

  As he walked away, he could hear the crash of the door, and a slight cheer, as they entered the room; and he could imagine to himself the appearance of the faces of those who entered, when they found the bird had flown, and the room was empty.

  Sweeney Todd had not far to go; he soon turned into Fleet Street, and made for his own house. He looked about him, but there was none near him; he was tired and exhausted, and right glad was he when he found himself at his own door.

  Then stealthily he put the key into the door, and slowly entered his house.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JOHANNA AT HOME, AND THE RESOLUTION

  Johanna Oakley would not allow Colonel Jeffery to accompany her all the way home, and he, appreciating the scruples of the young girl, did not press his attention on her, but left her at the corner of Fore-street, after getting a half promise that she would meet him again on that day week, at the same hour, in the Temple-gardens.

  ‘I ask this of you, Johanna Oakley,’ he said, ‘because I have resolved to make all the exertion in my power to discover what has become of Mr Thornhill, in whose fate I am sure I have succeeded in interesting you, although you care so little for the string of pearls, which he has in trust for you.’

  ‘I do, indeed, care little for them,’ said Johanna, ‘so little, that it might be said to amount to nothing.’

  ‘But still they are yours, and you ought to have the option of disposing of them as you please. It is not well to despise such gifts of fortune; for if you can yourself do nothing with them, there are surely some others whom you may know, upon whom they would bestow great happiness.’

  ‘A string of pearls, great happiness?’ said Johanna, enquiringly.

  ‘Your mind is so occupied by your grief that you quite forget such strings are of great value. I have seen those pearls, Johanna, and can assure you that they are in themselves a fortune.’

  ‘I suppose,’ she said sadly, ‘it is too much for human nature to expect two blessings at once. I had the fond, warm heart that loved me without the fortune, that would have enabled us to live in comfort and affluence; and now, when that is perchance within my grasp, the heart that was by far the most costly possession, and the richest jewel of them all, lies beneath the wave, with its bright influences, and its glorious and romantic aspirations, quenched for ever.’

  ‘You will meet me, then, as I request of you, to hear if I have any news for you?’

  ‘I will endeavour to do so. I have all the will; but Heaven knows if I may have the power.’

  ‘What mean you, Johanna?’

  ‘I cannot tell what a week’s anxiety may do; I know not but that a sick bed may be my resting-place, until I exchange it for the tomb. I feel even now my strength fail me, and I am scarcely able to totter to my home. Farewell, sir! I owe you my best thanks, as well for the trouble you have taken, as for the kindly manner in which you have detailed to me what has passed.’

  ‘Remember!’ said Colonel Jeffery, ‘that I bid you adieu, with the hope of meeting you again.’

  It was thus they parted, and Johanna proceeded to her father’s house. Who now that had met her and chanced not to see that sweet face, which could never be forgotten, would have supposed her to be the once gay and sprightly Johanna Oakley? Her steps were sad and solemn, and all the juvenile elasticity of her frame seemed to be gone. She seemed like one prepared for death; and she hoped that she would be able to glide, silently and unobserved, to her own little bedchamber—that chamber where she had slept since she was a little child, and on the little couch, on which she had so often laid down to sleep, that holy and calm slumber, which such hearts as hers can only know. But she was doomed to be disappointed, for the Rev Mr Lupin was still there, and as Mrs Oakley had placed before that pious individual a great assortment of creature comforts, and among the rest some mulled wine, which seemed particularly to agree with him, he showed no disposition to depart. It unfortunately happened that this wine of which the reverend gentleman partook with such a holy relish, was kept in a cellar, and Mrs Oakley had had occasion twice to go down to procure a fresh supply, and it was on a third journey for the same purpose that she encountered poor Johanna, who had just let herself in at the private door.

  ‘Oh! you have come home, have you?’ said Mrs Oakley, ‘I wonder where you have been to, gallivanting; but I suppose I may wonder long enough before you will tell me. Go into the parlour, I want to speak to you.’

  Now poor Johanna had quite forgotten the very existence of Mr Lupin—so, rather than explain to her mother, which would beget more questions, she wished to go to bed at once, notwithstanding it was an hour before the usual time for so doing. She walked unsuspectingly into the parlour, and as Mr Lupin was sitting, the slightest movement of his chair closed the door, so she could not escape. Under any other circumstances probably Johanna would have insisted upon leaving the apartment; but a glance at the countenance of the pious individual was quite sufficient to convince her he had been sacrificing sufficiently to Bacchus to be capable of any amount of effrontery, so that she dreaded passing him, more especially as he swayed his arms about like the sails of a windmill.

  She thought at least that when her mother returned she would rescue her; but in that hope she was mistaken, and Johanna had no more idea of the extent to which religious fanaticism will carry its victim, than she had of the manners and customs of the inhabitants of the moon. When
Mrs Oakley did return, she had some difficulty in getting into the apartment, inasmuch as Mr Lupin’s chair occupied so large a o portion of it; but when she did obtain admission, and Johanna said, ‘Mother, I beg of you to protect me against this man, and allow me a free passage from the apartment,’ Mrs Oakley affected to lift up her hands in amazement as she said,-

  ‘How dare you speak so disrespectfully of a chosen vessel. How dare you, I say, do such a thing—it’s enough to drive anyone mad to see young girls nowadays!’

  ‘Don’t snub her—don’t snub the virgin,’ said Mr Lupin; ‘she don’t know the honour yet that’s intended her.’

  ‘She don’t deserve it,’ said Mrs Oakley, ‘she don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Never mind, madam—never mind; we—we—we don’t get all what we deserve in this world.’

  ‘Take a drop of something, Mr Lupin; you have got the hiccups.’

  ‘Yes; I—I rather think I have a little. Isn’t it a shame that anybody so intimate with the lord should have the hiccups? What a lot of lights you have got burning, Mrs Oakley!’

  ‘A lot of lights, Mr Lupin! Why, there is only one; but perhaps you allude to the lights of the gospel?’

  ‘No; I—I don’t, just at present; damn the lights of the gospel—that is, I mean damn all backsliders! But there is a lot of lights, and no mistake, Mrs Oakley. Give us a drop of something, I’m as dry as dust.’

  ‘There is some more mulled wine, Mr Lupin; but I am surprised that you think there is more than one light.’

  ‘It’s a miracle, madam, in consequence of my great faith. I have faith in s-s-s-six lights, and here they are.’

  ‘Do you see that, Johanna,’ exclaimed Mrs Oakley, ‘are you not convinced now of the holiness of Mr Lupin?’

  ‘I am convinced of his drunkenness, mother, and entreat of you to let me leave the room at once.

  ‘Tell her of the honour,’ said Mr Lupin—‘tell her of the honour.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Lupin; but don’t you think it would be better to take some other opportunity?’