Sweeney Todd waited tensely for the boy's return. It had been over an hour since he had sent him out with a letter for Judge Turpin. "Where is he?" Todd Muttered, pacing. "He said he understood. What's taking him so long?"

He had instructed the boy not to speak to anyone along the way, to place the letter only in the hands of Judge Turpin, and to return swiftly back to the pie shop upon its delivery. Todd could almost feel, almost taste the rush of Turpin's life blood as it escaped the jagged maw made by one of his trusted friends. The silver raisers sat glinting in the light from the window. There were seven of them, each beautiful and deadly. They had been his father's back when Benjamin Barker Senior was the best barber in all of Lundon. He had loved his father more than anyone else in the world. He was glad, however, his father was dead and couldn't see what he had become.

Thinking of his father, Todd's mind wandered to Johanna and all the lost years he could never get back. He wished he could turn back the clock. He wished he could be a real father again, carrying her on his shoulders, waking up on Christmas morning to watch her open her gifts. She only ever had one doll. This wasn't for lack of money. Though the barkers were poor, Lucy was an excilent seemstress and would have made Johanna any number of dolls if she had wanted them. She didn't, though. She cared only for the doll she had since birth.

When he was shipped to Australia on a false charge, one-year-old Johanna was just beginning to show her burgening personality. She was a stranger. Even Antony, a man who professed to love her above all things, said only that she was beautiful. Todd liked Antony, but he wanted more for his daughter than empty adoration. He wanted someone who would love her even if she were ugly. He wanted a young man who adored Johanna for the keenness of her mind and the beauty of her soul. He supposed he didn't know for sure if she possessed a keen mind. She could, perhaps, be as empty and naeve as her suitor, but Todd thought not. Lucy had been so bright, so caring and full of new ideas. He knew that beneath Johanna's yellow hair, there must be a mind who's silver sharpness matched one of her father's raisers. Reverently, he lifted the picture in its wooden frame, kissing the faces of his wife and child.

"Mr. T! Mr. T!" Toby burst through the door, causing the little bell hanging to jangle unpleasantly.

"What took you so long?" Todd asked, not turning.

"I went to find Judge Turpin like you said," Toby said in a rush "and the beadle was there."

"The beadle," Todd repeated tonelessly. "I don't care about the beadle. Where was the judge?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" A note of impatience was evident in the boy's voice, making Sweeney think grim thoughts about a possible first and last shave. "The beadle said…"

"You spoke to him?" Todd set the picture down and spun around. "I told you to speak to no one."

Toby edged closer to the door, the unopened letter still in his hand. "I-I know, sir!" Toby stammered.

"Then why did you disobey me?" He pulled a raiser from where it hung at his side, flicking it open.

"Judge Turpin's gone bonkers!" Toby blirted, his backside colliding with the door.

Todd lowered the raiser, closing it with a metallic click. "Go on." Toby hurried backwards out the door, beginning to descend the stairs. Todd went after him. "wait!"

"I thought you said I could go!" Toby said defensively.

"what's going on here?" Mrs. Lovett appeared with a heavily-laidened dinner tray.

"Toby was just telling me what happened with the judge," Todd explained forcefully. "When I say go on, you stupid boy, it means continue. Now what happened?"

"Tell him, toby Dear,' Mrs. Lovett said gently, stepping between the two.

"Yes mum." Toby relaxed a little. "i Told Mr. Beadle Bamford I had to give the letter to Judge Turpin. He said judge Turpin's in bedlam. There were flowers and people everywhere, and a really pretty blonde girl in one of those fancy coffins with a window on it. She looked like she was asleep. Anyway, I guess the judge kinda liked her because she kicked the bucket and now he's crazy."

Todd stared. "Did you say—blonde?" He leaned against the wall for support. "Think carefully, boy. Was it regular blonde, or was it yellow like wheat?"

Toby's face screwed up in thought. "Um, yellow, I guess."

"Run along, deary," Mrs. Lovett urged the boy. He wasted no time. Mrs. Lovett laid a hand on Todd's arm, but he brushed her off. "Might not be her, you know," she said softly. "Lots of girls have yellow hair.

Todd only glared. "and what about the judge?"

Mrs. Lovett gave him a pitying look. "I'll get your jacket." The walk to Turpin Manour was a short one, but to Sweeney Todd, it was the longest of his life. His girl was dead, his wife was dead, and that basterd Judge Turpin was dreweling away in bedlam, safe from Todd as he could never be on the outside. Tonight, he would hang himself and join his family in the world beyond. He knew he would never be accepted in to heaven for the things he'd done, but he liked to think his wife and child waited for him somewhere between the two eternal places. They would be three wayward but happy spirits, wandering the earth with none but each other for company.

Mrs. Lovett knocked on the door and waited. Beadle Bamford answered the door in a black suit at least two sizes too small for him. "Have you come to pay your respects?" he asked. "I didn't know you knew Johanna."

"Judge Turpin spoke of her often," Mrs. Lovett replied. "Poor fellow. I hate to think of him all locked up in that dreadful place."

The beadle nodded, ushering them inside. They walked up a long, winding staircase, and the beadle opened a small door. Tapestries of birds in flight hung on the walls, and on the bed lay the coffin. It was just as Toby had described it, carved all over with angels and twining ivy. In its lid was set a stained glass panel through which Sweeney could see his beautiful daughter. Her innocent face was sad, as if caught forever in a whistful dream of freedom. Tears fell down Todd's pale face, hitting the glass as he knelt beside the still form.

The beadle watched him uncertainly. Mrs. Lovett caught the pudgy little man's expression and sighed. "Mr. Todd used to go to school with Benjamin barker." The beadle nodded his understanding. "The best of friends, they were," Mrs. Lovett went on. "So it's no wonder he feels so keenly this loss, both for his friend, Mr. Barker and for the judge who he always had the most respect for."

"What happened?" Mrs. Lovett asked at length. "How did the girl die, and how did the poor judge find himself in Bedlem?"

"Heart trouble," Beadle Bamford answered shortly. "Bedlem was too much for her, I expect." He glared out the window. Todd followed his gaze.

"I'll steal you, Johanna! I'll steel you!" Antony hope stood gazing at the coffin from the street below.

"Never mind him," Mrs. Lovett said reassuringly. "He's a bit late on that."

The beadle gave a harsh, humorless laugh. "More precisely, she's a little late."

Mrs. Lovett nodded grimly, putting an arm around the beadle's shoulders. "Come on, love. Come downstairs and let me make you some tea."

The beadle allowed himself to be ushered from the room. Todd was greatful to his land lady for allowing him a few minutes alone with his daughter. Maybe he would lay with her before he hung himself. It was the least he could do. Who else but she could think of such a clever way to disguise his lust for blood while at the same time profiting from it? Nelly Lovett had proven invaluable to him, and he would miss her on the other side. He imagined her coming up with the breakfast tray to find him bloated and hanging. He decided to put a note on the door telling her what she would find inside and explaining to her that it wasn't her fault. Maybe he would even tell her he had loved her a little. What harm would it do? After all, he would be long dead and with his dear Lucy. Carefully, he opened the lid of the coffin and kissed Johanna's brow.

The kitchen had the look of a room unused and unloved. The appliances shone. No tell-tale aromas lingered as proof of warmth and habitability. Mrs. Lovett set about making the tea. Her face was a mask of concern for the beadle while her mind swam with worry over her poor Mr. T. she knew nothing could bring Johanna back, but perhaps if she was able to gain access to the judge, Sweeney Todd could burry his grief in the pursuit of revenge. Perhaps, once he had dispatched of the evil Judge Turpin once and for all, he could find peace and the two could live companionably ever after. The barber didn't know it yet, but he and the baker were written in the stars. Who else but she would think of making people in to pies? Who else but he would go along with it? Looking at the beadle where he sat hunched in a straight-backed chair, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help thinking how much pie he would make.

"I never really cared about Johanna," Beadle Bamford was saying. "She was a silly little girl, always shy and a little too skinny. I like my girls fuller and more mature."

Mrs. Lovett smiled, her breast brushing his shoulder as she leaned over. "One lump or two, dear?"

"Two please, good lady." The beadle plumped and weighed her breasts with his eyes.

"So on to more important things than Johanna," Mrs. Lovett said lightly, placing the sugar cubes in his tea and stirring them "what about Judge Turpin? How did he wind up in Bedlem?"

"I'm sure the barber told you how Johanna was carrying on with that sailor we saw tonight," the beadle began. Mrs. Lovett nodded. "She was engaged. Did you know?"

Mrs. Lovett shook her head. "To that sailor? I would think Judge Turpin would have picked a better match for her." She set his steaming mug of tea in front of him.

"Oh, he did." The beadle rapped his hands around the cup, seeming to take in its warmth. "In fact, he chose to marry her himself rather than expose her to the ways of the world."

"well," Mrs. Lovett sat across from the beadle with her own mug of tea. "That was right generous of him."

"Indeed!" Beadle Bamford's eyes flashed. "So you can imagine his shock and dismay when he found her packing her belongings."

"Oh my." Mrs. Lovett shook her head in sympathy.

"Well, what could he do?" The Beadle took a long drink of his tea. "He locked her up in Bedlem to keep that sailor from spiritin' her off somewhere. Well, the next morning, Judge Turpin paid her a visit." He sighed.

"Go on," Mrs. Lovett pressed gently.

"Fog told him she had died in the night. He found her the next morning pressed up against the bars. He was just about to send a telegram when Judge Turpin arrived."

"oh dear dear dear!" Mrs. Lovett gave the beadle a wide-eyed look. "The poor man. The grief was too much for him, I expect."

"Certainly not!" the beadle looked offended. "Little wax dolls like Johanna are expendable. His Lordship could have found another had he wanted. But, when he went to lift the courps in his arms, it reached up and slapped him across the face."

Mrs. Lovett gasped in genuine horror. The Beadle ground his teeth in annoyance. "Drove him mad, it did. I was there. I saw it slap him. When I told the corriner about it, he said it was something called a motor reflex. He said the hand would have shot up and out anyway. He says the fact that his Lordship's face was there was just a coincidence."

Beadle Bamford's face was a mask of rage. He gripped the handle of the tea cup so hard his knuckles turned white. Mrs. Lovett shook her head sadly. "What a shame. Such a bright mind gone to waste."

"I have to arrange the funeral for the little ungrateful twit," the beadle muttered "and then I'll take Judge Turpin home nights. I'll have to bring him back to Bedlem during the day, though. I have to work and can't watch him, you see."

"You must be so over-whelmed." Mrs. Lovett refilled his now empty tea cup, stirring in more sugar and setting it before him. "Poor Beadle. Always doing everything you can for your friends and neighbours, and now you've got all this to worry about." She massaged his shoulders. "I'd do it all, you know. Watching the judge during the day so he wouldn't have to be by himself in that place, arranging the funeral so you wouldn't have to think about her any more than necessary." She laughed a little. "Ah well. I suppose you have to be careful who you trust with such delicate matters. Can't leave them in the hands of just anyone, I expect."

"You're a good-hearted woman." "I'm sure Judge Turpin would enjoy your company during the day if you didn't mind. All he does is stare off into space, so he wouldn't be any trouble. As for that accursed funeral, I'd pay you handsomely."

"No payment needed, sir." Mrs. Lovett beamed. "Just any little things we can't afford for the funeral its self."

Mr. T stood framed in the kitchen doorway, his raiser open in glinting silver in his hand. Mrs. Lovett jumped. "Goodness Mr. T! Put that thing away! You look like you're going to kill someone with it." He looked at her suspiciously. "I was just talking with beadle bamford here about the possibility of watching Judge Turpin during the day so he wouldn't have to stay in Bedlem. Wouldn't that be nice?"

He nodded, closing the raiser and putting it back in its place. "I thought I heard a scream down here," he said by way of explanation for the open blade. "Must have been the wind. When shall we be expecting Judge Turpin?"

"As early as tomorrow morning," the Beadle replied. "I can't tell you how it eases my mind to know he will be well cared for."

"Oh he will be well cared for, all right," Sweeney promised.