The String of Pearls (1850), p. 624

"Ah!" said the other, "and they all belong to the murdered men that Todd cut up to make pies of!"
"Horrible!—horrible!"
"You may say that, old friend. It's only a great pity that Sir Richard has so expressly forbid anything to be touched in the old crib, or else there 's some nice enough things here, I should say, that would make a fellow warm and comfortable in the winter nights."
"Not a doubt of that. Here's a cloak, now!"
"A beauty—quite a beauty, I say. He can't know what is really here. Do you think he can?"
"What, Sir Richard?"
"Yes."
"Oh, don't he. I wouldn't venture to touch so much as an old hat here, for I should feel, as sure as fate, he'd find it out."
"Oh, nonsense, he couldn't ; and as for the ghosts, they don t seem at all likely to interfere in the matter, for there's not one of them to be seen or heard of to-night."
"No, I defy the ghosts—a-hem! I begin to think, do you know, that ghosts, they said 'yes,' I'd say, 'well, old fellow, it's of no use to you now, you know; will you give it to me?'"
"Ha!—ha! Capital! Why you have quite got over all your fears."
"Fears? Rubbish! I was only amusing myself to hear what you would say."
"Was you, though? Only acting, after all?"
"Precisely."
"Well, then, I must say you did it remarkably well, and if you take to the stage you will make your fortune. Oh, here's a nice brown suit now, that would be just my size. I should feel inclined to say to the ghosts what you would say about the cloak."
"Well, lets say it, and if nobody says anything to the contrary, we will take it for granted. I will take the cloak, and you the brown suit; Sir Richard will be none the wiser, and we shall be a little the richer, you know. 'Mr. Ghost, may I have this cloak, if you please, as you can't possibly want it?"
''Upon my life you are a funny fellow," said the other; and then holding up the brown suit, he said, "Mr. Ghost who once owned this, may I have this brown suit, as it is of no use to you now?"
It was at this moment that Todd dashed open the two folding doors, and with one of the most frightful fiendish yells that ever came from the throat of man, he made one bound into the front room.
The effect of this appearance, and the sound that accompanied it, was all that Todd could possibly wish or expect. The two men were almost driven to madness. They dropped the light, and with shrieks of dismay they rushed to the door—they tore it open, and then they both fell headlong down the staircase to the passage below, where they lay in a state of insensibility that was highly amusing to Todd.
"Ha! ha!" he laughed, as he stood at the head of the stairs. "Ha! ha!"
He listened, but not so much as a groan came from either of the men, and then he clapped his huge hands together with a report like the discharge of a pistol, and laughed again. Todd had not been so well pleased since his escape from Newgate.
He slowly descended the stairs, and more than once he stopped to laugh again. The passage was intensely dark, so that when he reached it he trod upon one of the men, but that rather amused him, and he jumped violently upon the body.
"Good," he said. " Perhaps they are both dead. Well, let them both die.