The String of Pearls (1850), p. 359

"Yes. I often say to myself what universal profundity he must be possessed with, for he was once intended, he says, for the church, and I heard him say
he'd have stuck to it like bricks, if he could have heard of any church that was intended for him."
"Shocking!"
"Yes, Mrs. Ragg. There's profundity for you."
Did Martha Jones mean profanity?
"Ah," interposed Mrs. Ragg, " we live in a world."
"Yes, Mrs. Ragg, we does; but as you was a saying?"
"Eh?"
"As you was a saying about somebody being hung, if rights was rights, you know."
"Oh, dear, really you must not ask me. Indeed you must not."
"Well, I won't; but here we are, in Pump Court."
Todd darted into a door-way, and watched them up the staircase of No. 6, in that highly classic locality. He slunk into the door- way, and by taking a perspective glance up the staircase, he saw them stop upon the first floor. He saw that they turned to the right. He darted up a few stairs, and just caught sight of a black door. Then there was a sharp sound, as of some small latch closing suddenly, after which all was still. Todd ascended the stairs.
"Curses on them!" he muttered. "What can they mean by looking in such a manner at my shop? I thought the last time 1 saw that woman, Ragg, that she was cognizant of something. If now she, in her babbling, would give me any news of Tobias—Pho! he is—he must be dead."
By this time Todd had got to the top of the first flight of stairs, and stood upon the landing, close to several open doors—that is to say, outer black heavy-looking doors—and within them were smaller ones, armed with knockers.
"To the right," he muttered. "They went to theright—this must bethe door."
He paused at one and listened. Not a sound met his ears, and his impatience began to get extreme. That these two women were going to have a conference
about him he fully believed; and that he should be so near at hand, and yet not near enough to listen to it, was indeed galling. In a few moments it became
insupportable.
"I must and will know what they mean," he said. "My threats may wring the truth from them; and if necessary, I should not scruple to silence them both. Dead men tell no tales, so goes the proverb, and it applies equally well to dead women."
Todd smiled. He was always fond of a conceit.
"Yes," he muttered, "every circumstance says to me now in audible language, 'Go—go—go!' and go I will, far away from England. I feel that I have not now many hours to spare. This fracas with Mrs. Lovett expedites my departure wonderfully, and to-morrows dawn shall not see me in London. But I will—I must ascertain what these women are about. Yes, and I will do so at all risks."
A glance showed him that the act of temerity was a safe one. The door opened upon a dingy sort of passage, in which were some mops, pails, and brooms. At its further extremity there was another door, but it was not quite shut, and from the room into which it opened, came the murmer of voices. There were other doors right and left, but Todd heeded only that one which conducted to the room inhabited. He crept along the passage at a snail's pace; and then having achieved a station exactly outside the door, he placed one of his hands behind one of his elephantine-looking ears, and while his countenance looked like that of some malignant demon, he listened to what was going on within that apartment. Martha Jones was speaking.
"It is good, indeed, Mrs. Ragg, as you may well say, and the glasses sticks to the table, when they is left over-night, showing, as Mr. Juggus says, as it's a gluetenious quality this ale is."