“Rum game for us if he were only asleep,” muttered the sexton uneasily. “Dally wouldn’t like that, and I shouldn’t like it. That wouldn’t do.”
“Hale, strong—life arrested by that sudden accident,” said the doctor, as he laid his hand upon the cold forehead. “It must be possible. I am satisfied now, and I will.”
“Did you speak, doctor?” said Moredock.
“No. Yes,” said North, setting down the lamp quickly. “Here, help me.”
Moredock approached, wondering what was to be done next, and with a vague idea in his brain that the doctor was about to test whether the body before them contained any remains of life before making some examination for increasing his anatomical knowledge.
“Now, quick. Lift.”
“We two can’t lift that, doctor. It takes four men. Why, there was eight to bring it down.”
“Can we shift it to the edge of this slab?”
“Ay, we might do that.” And lifting first at the head, and then at the foot, they moved the coffin to the extreme edge of the stone table, leaving a good space on one side.
“Now, then, lift again. I will take the head; you the feet.”