“I will, on my honour as a man.”
“Shak’ han’s on it once again, doctor. That’s enough for me. I like a bit o’ money, and I want it bad; but no money shouldn’t ha’ made me do this. I’m doing of it because it’s to make men live longer.”
“Yes, my man, it is.”
“Then in we goes. Stop!”
“What now?”
“You won’t bring him—Squire Luke—back to life again, will you? Because that won’t answer my book.”
“Silence, man, and keep to your bargain, as I will keep to mine.”
Moredock drew a long breath, inserted the key, opened the heavy door of the great vault, and it, too, swung easily upon its well-oiled hinges, carefully prepared by the sexton for the funeral.
“You won’t mind the dark for a minute, doctor?” whispered the old man.
“No,” said the doctor, stepping in, followed by the sexton, who carefully closed the grim portal, and they stood together in the utter darkness in presence of generations of the dead.