The String of Pearls (1850), p. 652

had not any supernatural power by which he could tell of the proximity of Todd from no evidence of that fact at all.
"Yes," said Todd suddenly, "I will shoot him. I will risk all and shoot him now. If I die for it, I shall have, at least, had a great and glorious revenge! I will shoot him now, when he turns and walks up the aisle again."
Todd felt calm and pleased now that he had actually made up his mind to shoot Sir Richard: He projected the barrel of the pistol about an inch or so through the crevice caused by the spring of the door, and he calmly waited for the opportunity of sending its deadly contents into the heart of the magistrate.
The aisle down which Sir Richard had slowly paced was rather a long one, and he had walked down it some half-dozen times, in deep thought, and waiting
for Crotchet. There was no reason on earth why he should not come up it again, and so expose himself to the deadly aim of Todd.
He did commence the walk up it. If he had taken twenty steps he would have been a dead man; but chance, or providence—it is not for us to say which—had it otherwise. After going about ten paces, he turned abruptly to the left, and made his way down a long narrow passage between the pews to the
opening that led down to the vaults, where Crotchet was pursuing his inquiries.
Todd was foiled.
He drew back with a deep sigh.
"He is saved!" he said. "He is saved! It is not to be!"
Quite unconscious of the serious danger he had so narrowly escaped, Sir Richard went to the mouth of the opening to the vaults, and called out—
"Cotchet! Crotchet!"
"Here you is, sir," replied Crotchet; "I was just coming. It's all right. The old wagabone has'nt done nothing, sir, to spread the fire out of his own blessed premises, as I can see. The church isn't in danger, sir, I take it."
"Very good, Crotchet; then we need not remain here any longer. I cannot, for the life of me, think what has become of our man that we left in Todd's house. In all the riot and racket of the fire, no one seems to be at all aware of what has become of him. Is he a steady sort of a man, Crotchet?"
"Why yes, Sir Richard, he is. But if the truth must be told, he has got the fault of many. He is fond of the—"
Here Crotchet went through expressively the pantomime of placing a glass to his lips and draining it off, after which he rubbed his stomach, as much as to
say—"Isn't it nice!"
"I understand, Crotchet: he drinks."
"Rather, Sir Richard."
"Ah, that is the case of all—or of nearly all—men in his class of life. I should not wonder now, at all, if he has not been taking a glass of something, in consequence of feeling lonely, and so set fire to the old house."

CHAPTER CLIII.
TODD ASTONISHES THE BEADLE, AND ESCAPES FROM ST. DUNSTAN'S.

"Oh!" groaned Todd to himself. "Oh, if I had but shot the villain before the other one came up from the vaults, and all would have been well; but I cannot shoot them both at once. It is not often that 1 lose anything by procrastination, but I have now—Oh, yes, I have now! It is maddening!—It is quite maddening! and I could find in my own heart almost to turn this pistol against my own life, only that 1 hope yet to live a little while for vengeance."
A smart tap came against the church door.
"Open the door, Crotchet," said Sir Richard. "We are alone in the church now, for the beadle was too careful of himself to remain after he found that there was some little danger."