The String of Pearls (1850), p. 235

it rest about your friend, sir, whoever he was. Remarkable weather, sir, for the time of year."
Todd had got only half way from the shop to the parlour, when the shop-door opened, and the plain-looking man walked in—the very same plain man who had stood so close to Big Ben at Todd's window.
"Shaved," he said.
Todd paused.
"If, sir, you will call again in a few minutes, or if you have any call to make and can conveniently look in as you come back—"
"No, I'll take a seat."
The plain-looking man sat down close to the door, and looked as calm and as unconcerned as any one possibly could. The look with which Todd regarded him for a moment, and only one moment, was truly horrible. He then quietly went into his back parlour. In a moment he entered with a common kid glove, and said to Ben—
"Did this belong to your friend?—a gentleman left it here one day."
Ben shook his head.
"I really don't know," he said. "Come, Mr. Barber, finish the shaving, for
that gentleman is waiting."
Ben was duly shaved, while the plain-looking man sat quietly in the chair by the door, and when the operation was finished, Ben looked in Todd's face, and said, solemnly—
"A string of pearls."
"Sir," said Todd, without changing countenance in the least.
"A string of pearls.—Murder!"
"A what, sir?"
Ben look staggered. He well knew that if he had cut any ones throat for a string of pearls, that such words said to him would have driven him frantic, but when he saw no change in Todd's face, he begun to think that, after all, the accusation must be unfounded, and muttering to himself—
"It must be nothing but the child's fancy after all," he hastily threw down twopence and left the shop.
"Now, sir," said Todd, to the plain-looking man.
"Thank you."
The plain-looking man rose, and as he did so he seemed just to glance through the door into the street as it was opened by Ben. Immediately his face was full of smiles, as he cried—
"Ah, Jenkins, is that you? Ha, ha! I missed you this morning.—Excuse me, Mr. Barber, I'll look in again. My old friend Jenkins has just gone by."
With this, out he flew from Todd's shop like a shot, and was gone towards Temple Bar, before the barber could move or lay down the shaving cloth which he had in his hands all ready to tuck under his chin. Todd stood for a few moments in an attitude of irresolution. Then he spoke—
"What does all this mean?" he said. "Is there danger? Curses on them both, I would have; but no matter, I must be wrong—very wrong. That string of pearls may yet destroy me.—Destroy! no—no—no. They must have yet more wit before they get the better of me, and yet how I calculated upon the destruction of that man. I must think—I must think."
Todd sat down in his own strong chair, and gave himself up to what is popularly denominated a brown study.

CHAPTER XLIX.
THE VAULTS OF ST. DUNSTAN'S.

A ponderous stone was raised in the flooring of St. Dunstan's church. The beadle, the churchwarden, and the workmen shrunk back—back—back, until they could get no further.