The scene which followed was weird and horrible, had there been an onlooker; to North it had all the fascination of an intense scientific experiment. For he had arrived at the pitch when, according to his theory, he had but to make the warm living blood pass from his own veins, as in a case of transfusion, to prove that his studies bore the fruit of success.
The preliminaries were all arranged, and, with a sigh of satisfaction, North took a bright, keen lancet from its case, but only to let it fall back, starting violently, for he was, as it were, snatched back from his scientific dream by a faint rap upon the door of the great vault, and this was followed directly after by two more.
North rapidly replaced the great sheet, and turned down the light before going softly to the entry.
“Well?” he said harshly; “returned?”
“Hist!” whispered the old sexton. “Out here!”
He caught the doctor’s hand and drew him out from the entry of the vault to stand within the iron railings.
“Why have—”
“Hist!” whispered the old man again. “Come with me.”
North hesitated again, but yielded to his companion and followed him softly right round the church to the belfry door, which yielded to the old man’s touch.
“What does this mean?” said the doctor angrily. “Why have you brought me here?”