As they reached the end of the path where it stopped by the vestry door, Moredock paused to listen intently for a few moments.
“All right,” he said; “not so much as a cat about;” and stooping down, he unlocked the iron gates at the head of the steps and they swung softly back. “Iled ’em well,” whispered the sexton, “and the door below, too.”
“Now look here, my man,” whispered North, “you can let me into the tomb, and then keep watch for me; or I will open the place myself, and bring you back the keys.”
“Nay, doctor, I’m not skeared. I don’t like the job, but now you’ve got me to start on it, I’ll go on right to the end.”
“That’s right, Moredock; and you shall not regret it, man. As I’ve told you, it is for a special scientific reason.”
“I don’t know nothing ’bout scientific reason, doctor,” whispered the old man; “but you said it was some’at to do wi’ making men live longer.”
“Yes, and it is.”
“And that you’d stick to me, doctor, and make me live as long as Mephooslum if you could.”
“Yes, Moredock, I did.”
“And you’ll stick to that bargain?”