The String of Pearls (1850), p. 266

suited themselves yet with some one to take my place, so I am not to be sent to see my old friends. Oh, bitter—bitter fate. I would that I were dead!"

There was a heartiness in the pronunciation of the last word, that quite con-
vinced Sir Richard Blunt of their sincerity; but yet he thought he ought to
listen to a little more before he ran the risk of falling into any trap that might
be laid for him by Mrs. Lovett or her satellites, if she had any. He had not to
wait long, for whoever it was that was speaking had got into a good train of
groaning, and did not seem inclined to leave off for some time.

"Is she a woman, or the devil in petticoats?" said the voice.

"Humph!" thought Sir Richard Blunt, "that would be rather a hard question
to answer upon oath."

" How much longer am I to bear this load of misery?" continued the voice.
"No sleep—no food, but just what will sustain nature in her continued suffer-
ings. Oh, it is most horrible. Have I been preserved from death under many
adventurous and fearful circumstances, at last to die here like a rat in a hole ?"

"What on earth can be the matter with this man?" thought Sir Richard.

There was a pause in the lamentations of the man now for a few seconds,
during which he only groaned once or twice, just as if by way of letting any one
know, who might be listening, that he was not pacified. At length, with a
sudden burst of passion, he cried—

" I can bear it no longer. Death of my own seeking, and by my own choice
as to method, is far preferable to this state of existence. Farewell, all—
farewell
to you, fair and gentle girl, whom I loved and whose falseness first gave me a pang
such as the assassin's dagger could not have inflicted. Farewell, dear companions
of my youth, whom I had hoped to see again !"

"Stop!" said Sir Richard Blunt.

The captive cook was still.

" Stop!" cried Sir Richard Blunt again.

" Good God! who is that?" said the voice from the region of the oven.

"Your good genius," if I save you from doing anything rash; who and what are
you? Tell me all."

"To be betrayed. Ah, you are some spy of Mrs. Lovett's of course, and you
only wish to draw me into conversation for my destruction."

"What were you going to do just now?"

"Take my own life."

"Well, if you find I am an enemy instead of a friend, as I profess to be, you
can but carry out your intention."

" That's true."

The captive cook pronounced these two words in such a solemn tone, that the
magistrate was more than ever convinced of his sincerity, and that he was far
more a victim of Mrs. Lovett and her associate, the barber, than an accomplice.

" Speak freely," said Sir Richard. "Who and what are you?"

"I am the most unhappy wretch that ever breathed. I am cribbed and
cabined and confined, I live upon raw flour and water. I curse the hour that I was
born, and wish I had been a blind kitten and drowned, rather than what I am."

"But what do you do here?"

"Make numberless pies."

"Well?"

"It's all very fine for you to say well, whoever you are, but it is anything but
well with me. Where are you?"

"Upon the staircase, near an iron door."

"Ah, you are at the aperture through which that abominable Mrs. Lovett
issues to me her commands and her threats. If you have any compassion in
your nature, and the smallest desire to hear a story that will curdle your blood,
you will find out the means of opening that door, and then I will climb up to it
and make one effort for freedom."

"My good friend, I am very much afraid it would materially derange my plans
to do so."