Henry carried an unlighted bull's-eye lantern; Cramphorn's pocket bulged, and in his hand he bore a small bag of battered leather. Under their breath they discussed the matter. The night was moonless, and a haze of heat stole abroad upon the land. Pale green light shuddered along the north-eastern horizon, and the faces of umbel-bearing flowers caught it and spoke of it dimly out of the darkness. A dewy peace held the world—a peace only broken by the throb of the field-crickets that pulsed upon the ear infinitely loud in contrast with the alternate silences. Mist enveloped all things in the valleys, and as the men sank towards the churchyard, Collins shivered before cold moisture that brushed his face like a dead hand.
"'Tis a thing beyond all belief," he said; "an' I be very glad as you didn't give me more'n a day to think, else I should have runned away rather than faace it."
"'Tis a ugly thing done for a butivul purpose. 'Tis the best work as ever that brain-pan will have to its credit in this here world."
"'Struth! I cream all awver to hear 'e! Such courage as you've got. Did 'e get the keys?"
"Ess; when Noah Brimblecombe was up to the rectory. I seed un go; then went in the cottage an' waited, an' when his missus had her back turned at the door, I pulled the curtain in the corner, under the cloam images wheer the church keys all hang to. And them I wanted I found. To put 'em back wi'out him knawin' will be a harder job."
"An' arter the—the screws, theer'll be a lead case, I s'pose—have 'e thought 'pon that? But I lay you have."
"I've got a mall an' cold chisel in my bag. Ban't no harder than openin' a chest of tea," answered the old man grimly.
Mr. Collins whined and shivered.
"To think of it! The mystery of it! If she knawed—the very man she promised to wed. 'Tis tu gashly; I been ever since this marnin' broodin' awver the business."
"A gert thought—that's what it was, an' I be proud of it; an' if 'tis ever knawed an' telled about after I'm dead and gone, folks'll say 'tweern't no common man as carried out such a projec'. A fule would have digged in the airth an' be catched so easy as want-catcher kills moles; but theer's brains goes to this item. I minded Christopher Yeoland—him as was taken off in full power an' pride of life by a snake-sting; an' I minded how nought but the twist of a key an' the touch of a turnscrew still lay between him an' the quick."