The String of Pearls (1850), p. 212

"Yes, thank God."
"Then, go and do it; and the next time you hear me cry out with the stomach-ache, ask yourself if it is your business to come in and ask me any questions about it. As for you, ma'am, unless you want to be shaved, I don't know, for the life of me, what you do here."
"Well, we only thought——"
Todd gave a hideous howl, which so terrified both the intruders, that they left the shop in a moment. His countenance then assumed that awful satanic expression which it sometimes bore, and he stood for the space of about five minutes in deep thought. Starting then suddenly, he took up the sword and hat of Major Bounce, and was in the act of putting both into a cupboard, when a smothered cry met his ears. Todd unsheathed the sword, and after fastening his shop door, he went into the parlour. He was absent about ten minutes, and when he returned he had not the sword, but he hastily washed his hands.
"Done!" he said.
Scratch! scratch! scratch! came something at his door, and Todd bent
forward in an attitude of listening. Scratch!—scratch!—scratch!—His face
turned ghastly pale, and his knees knocked together as he whispered to himself—
"What is that?—what is that?"
Todd was getting superstitious. Since his adventure with Mr. Crotchet, his nerves had been out of order, notwithstanding the exertions he had made to control himself, and to convince his judgment that it was all a matter of imagination. Yet now, somehow or another, although there was no visible connection between the two things, he could not help mental ly connecting this scratching at the door with the vision on the staircase. It is strange how the fancy will play such tricks, but it is no less strange than true that she does so, yoking together matters most dissimilar, and leading the judgment into strange disorder.
Scratch!—scratch!—scratch!
"What—what is it?" gasped Todd.
But time works wonders, and after the first shock to his nerves, the barber began to think that some one must be playing him a trick, and, for all he knew, it might be the very man whom he had snubbed so for interfering with him, or it might be some boy—the boys would at times tease Sweeney Todd. This supposition gathered strength each moment.
"It is a trick—a trick," he said. "I will be revenged!"
He took a thick stick from a corner, and stealthily approached the door.
The odd scratching noise continued, and he again paused for a few moments to listen to it.
"A boy—a boy," he growled. "It is one of the infernal boys."
Opening the door a little way with great quickness, Todd aimed a blow
through the opening. There was a short angry bark, and his old enemy,
the dog that had belonged to the mariner, thrust in his head, and glared at Todd.
"Help!—help! Murder!" cried Todd. "The dog again !"
He made a vain effort to shut the door; but Hector was too strong for him, and, as he had got his head in, he seemed to be determined to force in his whole body, which he fully succeeded in doing. Todd dropped the stick, and rushed into the back-parlour for safety, from whence, through a small square of glass near the top of the door, he glared at the proceedings of his four-footed foe. The dog went direct to the cupboard from which he had taken his master's hat, and,
opening the door, he dragged out an assemblage of miscellaneous property, as though he hoped to find among it some other vestige of the dear master he had lost. When, however, after tossing the things about, he found that they were all strange to him, he gave a melancholy howl. Hector then appeared to be considering what he should do next, and, after a few moments' consideration,