“What! lift him out, doctor?”
“Yes, man, yes. Don’t waste time.”
Moredock hesitated for a moment, and drew a long breath. Then, obeying the orders he had received, he helped to lift the body out upon the table, where it lay white and strange-looking in the yellow light.
“Now we can easily lift the coffin,” said North. “Over yonder—out of the way.”
The sexton uttered a low whistle, as he once more obeyed, taking the bottom handle of the massive casket, and it was placed on one side close to where a generation or two of the passed-away Candlishes lay in their bin-like niches.
This done, the old man passed his arm across his damp forehead.
“Mind me having a pipe, doctor?” he said uneasily. “This is a bit extry like. I didn’t know—”
“No, no; you must not smoke here,” said the doctor hastily. “One moment—into the middle of the table here.”
Moredock obeyed again, and the recumbent figure of the dead squire was placed exactly where the coffin had stood.
“That will do,” said North. “Now, Moredock, what do you say to a glass?”