The String of Pearls (1850), p. 317

"Good-bye, madam; I only hope you will be able to carry your benevolent intentions into effect—and," added the cook to himself, "that I may some
fine morning have the pleasure of seeing you hanged."
"Farewell," said Mrs. Lovett; and she, too, had her aside as she ascended the stairs, for she muttered—"If I were only a little better assured than I am that you meditated something dangerous, I would steal upon you while you slept, and with a knife soon put an end to all trouble regarding you."
Now, it happened that when Mrs. Lovett reached her shop, she saw three people outside the window. The actions of these people attracted her observation. One was a big stout man, of such a size as was rarely seen in the streets of London. The other was a young girl, nicely attired, but with a look of great grief and agitation upon her countenance. The third person of the group was a gentlemanly-looking man, attired in a great coat which was but- toned up to his chin. The big stout man was making a kind of movement towards the door of the pie-shop, and the gentleman with the great-coat was holding up his hand and shaking his head, as though forbidding him. The big stout man then looked angry; and then Mrs. Lovett saw the young girl cling to him, and heard her say—
"Oh, no—no; I said I wanted nothing.—Come away."
Then the gentleman with the great-coat pulled his collar down a little; upon which the young girl sprang towards him, and, clasping his arm, cried in tones
of intense interest—
"Ah, sir, is it indeed you? Tell me is she saved—oh, is she saved?"
"She will be," was the reply of the gentleman in the great-coat. "Come away.''
The big stout man appeared to be getting rather furious at the idea of the gentleman with the great-coat dictating what he and the young girl
should do; but she by a few words pacified him; and then, as if they were the best friends in the world, they all walked away towards the Strand, conversing very seriously and rapidly.
"What does this mean?" said Mrs. Lovett.
Terror overspread her countenance. Oh, conscience! conscience! how truly dost thou make "Cowards of us all!"
What could compensate Mrs. Lovett for the abject terrors that came over her now? What could recompense her for the pang that shot across her
heart, at the thought that something was amiss in the fine-drawn web of subtlety that she and Sweeney Todd had drawn? Alas! was the money in
the Bank of England, upon which she expected to enjoy herself in a foreign land, now any set-off against that shuddering agony of soul with which she said
to herself—
"Is all discovered?"
Her strength forsook her. She quite forgot all about the cook, and the brandy she had promised him—she forgot even how necessary it was, in case
any one should come, for her to keep up the appearance of composure; and tottering into the back-parlour, she sunk upon her knees on the floor, and shook
as though the spirit of twenty agues possessed her. So it will be seen that Todd was not quite alone in his sufferings from those compunctious visitations, which we have seen at times come over him in his shop. But we will leave Mrs. Lovett to her reflections, hoping that even she may be made a little wiser and a little better by those soft

"Whisperings of awakened sense;"

and that she may find some one among the invisible hosts of spirits of another
world who may whisper to her—

"Repent! repent!—it is not yet too late."

Let us look at those three persons whose mysterious conduct at the shop windows had, like a match applied to gunpowder, at once awakened a fever