CHAPTER XLIX.
THE VAULTS OF ST. DUNSTAN’S.
A ponderous stone was raised in the flooring of St. Dunstan’s church. The beadle, the churchwarden, and the workmen shrunk back—back—back, until they could get no further.
“Ain’t it a norrid smell,” said the beadle.
Then the plain-looking man who had been at Sweeney Todd’s advanced. He was no other than Sir Richard Blunt, and whispering to the churchwarden, he said—
“If what I expect be found here, we cannot have too few witnesses to it. Let the workmen be dismissed.”
“As you please, Sir Richard. Faugh! what an awful—fuff!—stench there is. I have no doubt they won’t be sorry to get away. Here, my men, here’s half-a-crown for you. Go and get something to drink and come back in an hour.”
“Thank yer honour!” cried one of the men. “An’ sure, by
