The String of Pearls (1850), p. 578

waited at the head of them, until Todd touched him, and then he whispered the one word, "Stairs."
"Yes," replied Todd, and then Lupin commenced the descent, followed by his trembling companion, and for the matter of that, Lupin himself shook now like an aspen leaf.
The steps were fourteen in number, and then, by the feel of a mat at the foot of them, Lupin was satisfied that he had actually gained the hall of the Governor's house. Todd was close behind him.
"Stop!" whispered Lupin, and Todd stopped as suddenly as though he had been some piece of machinery that could be in a moment arrested in its progress. Lupin well knew now that without a light it would be folly to attempt opening the door of the Governor's house, which, as a matter of course, was well secured; end very reluctantly he lit another match, and ignited the wax candle-end again. He placed Todd in such a position on the mat at the foot of the stairs, that his bulky tall form acted as a screen against the rays of the light ascending the staircase, and then, with something of his old nervousness and abject fear of manner and expression, he narrowly scrutinized the door.
"Curses on all these precautions!" he muttered. "We may be detained here until morning."
In good truth, the door of the Governor's house was very well fastened up, and Mr. Lupin might well feel a little staggered at the sight of it. A chain that was up across it, he easily removed, and the bolts offered no obstacles; but what was the most serious consisted of a small, but exquisitely made lock that was on the door, and the key of which, no doubt, at such an hour was under the Governor's pillow.
Todd at that moment would have given anything to be able just to say—"How are you getting on?" but in such a place, with, for all he knew to the contrary, the Governor of Newgate within a dozen yards of him, he dared not open his lips.
And now Lupin brought all his old skill to bear upon that one little lock upon the Governor's door, and yet it resisted him. One five minutes' attempt to pick it was to him pretty conclusive evidence that it was not to be done.
He had the chisel in his pocket, and in dispair he inserted it between the door and the post. It broke short off by the handle. Lupin uttered a groan,
which was echoed by Todd, and then they both stood glaring at each other in solemn silence. Todd crept towards Lupin, and leaning forward he whispered
faintly—
"It can't be done?"
"No," said Lupin, "that lock stops us."
"Lost—lost!" said Todd. "We are lost, then?"
"Hush. Let me think. The key of this lock is with the Governor, of course. Now, Todd, you are a man of strong nerves, you know, or else it would have been quite impossible for you to have gone through life in the way you have done. What do you say to going and trying to get the key?"
"I—I?"
"Yes, to be sure. I have, up to this moment, you know, done all the work, and if this lock had not baffled me, I would have done the remainder cheerfully; but could you not take one of these files—the end of it is very sharp—and persuade the Governor to give up the key?"
"Kill him, you mean?"
"You may call it killing."
"If I thought it could be done with anything like a certainty of result, I would make no more of the life of the Governor than—than—"
Todd was at a loss for a simile, and Lupin helped him out of the difficulty by saying—
"Giving a man a clean shave for one penny, or eating a veal pie."
Todd nodded.
"Now, hark you," continued Lupin, speaking in the same very low whisper,