The Penny Dreadfuls MEGAPACK™

by Oscar Wilde

  ‘But she can speak.’

  ‘So she may; but who attends to the ravings of a mad woman? No, no; depend upon it that is the best plan: send her to a lunatic asylum—a private madhouse. I can obtain all that is requisite in a day or two.’

  ‘Then we will consider that settled.’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘In a few days, then?’

  ‘Before next Sunday; because we can enjoy ourselves on that day without any restraint, or without any uncomfortable feelings of uncertainty about us.’

  * * * *

  I waited to hear no more: I had heard enough to tell me what I had to expect. I went back to my own room, and having put on my bonnet and shawl I went out to see the individual to whom I have alluded, and saw him.

  I then informed him of all that had taken place, and heard him exclaim against them in terms of rising indignation.

  ‘Come to me,’ he said; ‘come to me at once.’

  ‘Not at once.

  ‘Don’t stop a day.’

  ‘Hush!’ said I; ‘there’s no danger: I will come the day after tomorrow; and then I will bid adieu to all these unhappy moments, to all these persecutions; and in three years’ time I shall be able to demand my fortune, which will be yours.

  * * * *

  We were to meet the next day but one, early in the morning—there were not, in fact, to be more than thirty hours elapse before I was to leave home—if home I could call it—however there was no time to be lost. I made up a small bundle and had all in readiness, before I went to bed, and placed in security, intending to rise early and let myself out and leave the house.

  That, however, was never to happen. While I slept, at a late hour of the night, I was awakened by two men standing by my bedside, who desired me to get up and follow them. I refused, and they pulled me rudely out of bed.

  I called out for aid, and exclaimed against the barbarity of their proceedings.

  ‘It is useless to listen to her,’ said my father, ‘you know what a mad woman will say!’

  ‘Ay, we do,’ replied the men, ‘they are the cunningest devils we ever heard. We have seen enough of them to know that.’

  To make the matter plain, I was seized, gagged, and thrust into a coach, and brought here, where I have remained ever since.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  THE RAPID JOURNEY OF TOBIAS TO LONDON

  There was something extremely touching in the tone, and apparently in the manner, in which the poor persecuted one detailed the story of her wrongs, and she had the tribute of a willing tear from Tobias.

  ‘After the generous confidence you have had in me,’ he said, ‘I ought to tell you something of myself.’

  ‘Do so,’ she replied, ‘we are companions in misfortune.’

  Tobias then related to her at large all about Sweeney Todd’s villainies, and how at length he, Tobias, had been placed where he was, for the purpose of silencing his testimony of the evil and desperate practices of the barber. After that, he related to her what be had overheard about the intention to murder him that night, and he concluded by saying,-

  ‘If you have any plan of escape from this horrible place, let me implore you to tell it to me, and let us put it into practice tonight, and if we fail, death is at any time preferable to continued existence here.’

  ‘It is—it is—listen to me.’

  ‘I will indeed,’ said Tobias; ‘you will say you never had such attention as I will now pay to you.’

  ‘You must know, then, that this cell is paved with flagstones, as you see, and that the wall here at the back forms likewise part of the wall of an old wood-house in the garden, which is never visited.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘Well, as I have been here so long, I managed to get up one of the flagstones that forms the flooring here, and to work under the wall with my hands—a slow labour, and one of pain, until I managed to render a kind of excavation, one end of which is here, and the other in the wood-house.’

  ‘Glorious!’ said Tobias, ‘I see—I see—go on.’

  ‘I should have made my escape if I could, but the height of the garden wall has always been the obstacle. I thought of tearing this miserable quilt into strips, and making a sort of rope of it; but then how was I to get it on the wall? You, perhaps, will, with your activity and youth, be able to accomplish this.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes! you’re right enough there; it is not a wall that shall stop me.’

  They waited until, from a church clock in the vicinity, they heard ten strike, and then they began operations. Tobias assisted his new friend to raise the stone in the cell, and there, immediately beneath, appeared the excavation leading to the wood-house, just sufficiently wide for one person to creep through.

  It did not take long to do that, and Tobias took with him a piece of work, upon which he had been occupied for the last two hours, namely, the quilt torn up into long pieces, twisted and tied together, so that it formed a very tolerable rope, which Tobias thought would sustain the weight of his companion.

  The wood-house was a miserable-looking hole enough, and Tobias at first thought that the door of it was fastened, but by a little pressure it came open; it had only stuck through the dampness of the woodwork at that low point of the garden.

  And now they were certainly both of them at liberty, with the exception of surmounting the wall, which rose frowningly before them in all its terrors.

  There was a fine cool fresh air in the garden, which was indeed most grateful to the senses of Tobias, and he seemed doubly nerved for anything that might be required of him after inhaling that delicious cool, fresh breeze. There grew close to the wall one of those beautiful mountain-ash trees, which bend over into such graceful foliage, and which are so useful in the formation of pretty summerhouses. Tobias saw that if he ascended to the top of this tree, there would not be much trouble in getting from there to the wall.

  ‘We shall do it,’ he said, ‘we shall succeed.’

  ‘Thank God, that I hear you say so,’ replied his companion.

  Tobias tied one end of the long rope they had made of the quilt to his waist, so that he might carry it up with him, and yet leave him free use of hands and feet, and then he commenced, with great activity, ascending the tree. In three minutes he was on the wall.

  The moon shone sweetly. There was not a tree or house in the vicinity that was not made beautiful now, in some portions of it, by the sweet, soft light that poured down upon them.

  Tobias could not resist pausing a moment to look around him upon the glorious scene: but the voice of her for whom he was bound to do all that was possible, aroused him.

  ‘Oh, Tobias!’ she said, ‘quick, quick—lower the rope; oh, quick!’

  ‘In a moment—in a moment,’ he cried.

  The top of the wall was here and there armed with iron spikes, and some of these formed an excellent grappling place for the torn quilt. In the course of another minute Tobias had his end of it secure.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘can you climb up by it, do you think? Don’t hurry about it. Remember, there is no alarm, and for all we know we have hours to ourselves yet.’

  ‘Yes, yes—oh, yes—thank God!’ he heard her say.

  Tobias was not where he could, by any exertion of strength, render her now the least assistance, and he watched the tightening of the frail support by which she was gradually climbing to the top of the wall with the most intense and painful interest that can be imagined.

  ‘I come—I come,’ she said, ‘I am saved.’

  ‘Come slowly—for God’s sake do not hurry.’

  ‘No, no.’

  At this moment Tobias heard the frail rope giving way: there was a tearing sound—it broke, and she fell.

  Lights, too, at that unlucky moment, flashed from the house, and it was now evident an alarm had been given. Wh
at could he do? if two could not be saved, one could be saved.

  He turned, and flung his feet over the wall, he hung by his hands, as low as he could, and then he dropped the remainder of the distance.

  He was hurt, but in a moment he sprang to his feet, for he felt that safety could only lie in instant and rapid flight.

  The terror of pursuit was so strong upon him that he forgot his bruises.

  * * * *

  ‘Thank Heaven,’ exclaimed Tobias, ‘I am at last free from that horrible place. Oh, if I can but reach London now, I shall be safe; and as for Sweeney Todd, let him beware, for a day of retribution for him cannot be far off.’

  So saying, Tobias turned his steps towards the city, and at a hard trot, soon left Peckham Rye far behind him as he pursued his route.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  THE ANNOUNCEMENT IN SWEENEY TODD’S WINDOW. JOHANNA OAKLEY’S ADVENTURE

  Having thus far traced Tobias’s career, we are the better enabled to turn now our exclusive attention to the proceedings of Johanna Oakley, who, we cannot help thinking, is about to commence a most dangerous adventure.

  The advice which had been given to her by her romantic young friend, Arabella Wilmot, had from the first taken a strong hold upon her imagination; and the more she had thought it over, and the more she found the others failed, in procuring any tidings of her lost lover, the more intent she was upon carrying it out.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, true love will accomplish very great wonders; and what force or ability will fail at, confident affection even of a mere girl may succeed in. ’Tis true I risk my life; but what is life to me without what made it desirable? What is continued existence to me, embittered with the constant thought that such a dreadful mystery hangs over the fate of Mark Ingestrie?’

  So it will be seen it was partly despair, and partly a kind of presentiment she had that success would attend her enterprise, that induced her to go to Sweeney Todd’s.

  There was a placard in Todd’s window, which bore the following announcement:

  Wanted: a lad. One of strict religious principles preferred.

  Apply within.

  The fact is, as we have said, although Sweeney Todd now, from the sale of the string of pearls, had the means of retiring from his avocations, and fully meant to do so, he did not think it prudent to hurry over such a step, and was resolved to wait until all noise and enquiry, if any were made, about the pearls had subsided; and therefore was it that he found it necessary to provide himself with a new boy, who, for all he cared, might share the fate of poor Tobias—that fate which Sweeney Todd considered certain, but concerning which the reader is better informed.

  ‘Ah,’ muttered Todd to himself, ‘I like boys of a religious turn. They are much easier managed, for the imagination in such cases has been cultivated at the expense of the understanding. Hilloa, who have we here?’

  Todd was stropping a razor, and peering out into the street while he spoke, and he saw a decent-looking young lad of remarkably handsome exterior, stop at the window, and read the tempting announcement. The lad advanced a step towards the door, hesitated, retreated, and then advanced again, as if he wished to apply for the vacant situation, and yet dreaded to do so.

  ‘Who can he be?’ said Todd, as he looked curiously at him. ‘He don’t seem the likely sort to apply for the situation of barber’s boy.’

  Todd was right enough there, for this seeming lad was no other than Johanna Oakley; and little, indeed, did she seem as if she belonged to the rough class from whom Sweeney Todd, the barber, might be supposed to find a lad for his shop.

  In another moment she entered the shop, and was face to face with the man whom she might fairly consider to be the bane of her young existence, if what was suspected of him were true.

  Todd fixed his strange glance upon her; but he was silent, for it was no rule of his to speak first, and Johanna felt constrained to commence the rather embarrassing conversation.

  ‘You are in want of a lad, sir,’ she said, ‘to mind your shop, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Johanna had certainly hoped for a longer answer; but as Todd was silent, she had now no recourse but to go on.

  ‘I shall be glad to take the situation.’

  ‘Who are you? You don’t seem likely to want such a place. Who and what are you?’

  Johanna had her story ready, for of course she had anticipated questions being asked of her; so she replied, with a readiness that did not seem at all forced, ‘I am an orphan, I was left in the care of a mother-in-law; I don’t like her, she was cruel to me, and I ran away.’

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘Oxford.’

  ‘Oxford, Oxford,’ muttered Todd; ‘then nobody knows you in London, I suppose, my little lad?’

  ‘No one. I have come to town comfortably enough, in a wagon; but, if I don’t get something to do, I shall have to go back, which I don’t like the idea of at a11. I’d rather be anything in London, than go back to Mrs Green.’

  ‘Green, and what’s your name?’

  ‘Charley Green, of course; you sees my name’s the same as hers, because she married my father.’

  ‘Oh, you won’t suit me; you ain’t the sort of boy I want.’

  ‘Sorry I troubled you, sir,’ said Johanna, as she turned carelessly and left the shop without making the least attempt to move the barber’s determination, or even looking behind her.

  ‘Pshaw!’ exclaimed Todd, as he flung down the razor he had commenced sharpening again, ‘how foolishly suspicious I am. I shall wait a while, I think, before I get anyone to suit me as this lad will. In London alone, without friends, an orphan, nobody to enquire after him—the very thing.’

  Sweeney Todd was at his door in an instant. ‘Hoi! hoi!’ he called. Johanna looked back, and saw him beckon to her; with new hope she returned, and was again in the shop.

  ‘Hark ye, my lad,’ said Todd; ‘I feel disposed to take you on account of your friendless condition. I feel for you, I’m an orphan myself, that’s a fact.’ Here he made one of those hideous grimaces he was in the habit of indulging in when he thought he said anything particularly racy. ‘Yes, I’m a poor orphan myself, with nothing but my strong sense of religion to support me. I’ll take you on trial.’

  ‘I am much beholden to you, sir.’

  ‘Oh, don’t mention that; your duties will consist of minding the shop if I happen to be absent. You will have sixpence a day, but nothing else from me; for out of that, you provide yourself with food; and the cheapest and the best thing you can do is, to go always to Lovett’s, in Bell Yard, and have a pie for your dinner; you will sleep at night here in the shop, run messages, see and hear much, but if you gossip about me and my affairs, I’ll cut your throat.’

  ‘You may depend upon me, sir; I’m only too happy in being taken into the service of such a respectable gentleman.’

  ‘Respectable gentleman!’ repeated Todd, as he finished stropping the razor. ‘Respectable’; and then he gave one of his hideous laughs, which thrilled through the very heart of Johanna, as she thought that it might have been the last noise that sounded in the ears of Mark Ingestrie in this world. Todd turned very suddenly round, and said, ‘Did you groan?’

  ‘I groan!’ replied Johanna; ‘what for?’

  ‘Oh, I only thought you did, Master Charley, that’s all. See if that water on the fire is hot, and if so, bring it to me. Ha! a customer.’

  As Todd uttered these words, two persons entered the shop; they looked like substantial countrymen, farmers perhaps, in a good way of business; and one of them said, ‘Now, Mr Barber, for a clean shave, if you please,’ while the other stood at the door, as if to wait for his companion.

  ‘Certainly, sir,’ said Todd. ‘Pray sit down here if you please, sir; a nice day for the time of year; come from the country, sir, I suppose?’

 
‘Yes, me and my cousin; we don’t know much of London, yet.’

  ‘Indeed, sir, you ought not to leave it soon, then, I’m sure, for there is much to see, and that can’t be seen quickly; and if you live far off, it’s better to take the opportunity while you are here. Give me that soap dish, Charley.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Ah, to be sure,’ replied the countryman, ‘it is; but we have brought up to the London market a number of beasts, which having sold well, we have too much money about us to risk in going to see sights.’

  ‘Indeed! you are prudent. Would you like your whiskers trimmed?’

  ‘A little, but not quite off.’

  There was now a pause of some moments’ duration, after which Sweeney Todd said, in a very offhand manner—‘I suppose you have seen the two figures at St Dunstan’s church strike the hour?’

  ‘Two figures?’ said the one who was not being shaved, for the other would have had a mouthful of lather if he had spoken; ‘two figures? No—what may they be all about?’

  ‘Well,’ resumed Todd, with the most indifferent air and manner in the world, ‘if you have not seen them, it’s quite a shame that you should not; and while I am shaving your friend, as it now only wants about five minutes to eleven, you have a good opportunity of going and getting back in time when your friend is—disposed of—what do you say to that? Charley, go with the gentleman, and show him the figures striking the hour at St Dunstan’s. You must cross over to the other side of the way, you know, to see them properly and effectually. Don’t hurry, sir.’

  ‘Very much obliged,’ said the disengaged grazier, for such he seemed to be; ‘but I would rather go with my friend here, when he is shaven. You can’t think what cynical remarks he makes at anything he has not seen before, so that to go with him is really always to me half the treat.’

  ‘Very good and very right,’ said Todd; ‘I shall soon be done. I have just about finished you off, now, sir. That will do.’

  There was no disappointment at all visible in Todd’s manner, and the grazier rose and wiped his face on the jack-towel, that hung from a roller for the use of those whom it might concern, paid his money, and with a civil good-day to the barber, left the shop along with his friend.