“Good, eh?”
“Yes,” said the old fellow, with a hideous grin. “Lots o’ them never did no good in their lives, and maybe they’re thankful now they’re dead to find that, after all, they’re some use to their fellow-creatures.”
“Ah! Moredock, people are always ready to find an excuse for their wrong-doing. Seems to me that I ought to expose you up at the Rectory.”
“Nay, you won’t tell the parson, doctor?” said the old man, with a chuckle.
“No, I shall say nothing, Moredock.”
“No, doctor, you can’t. You’re in it. You set me to get that for you.”
“There, stop that confounded laugh of yours, and take this quietly to the Manor House to-night. Shall you be well enough?”
“Have—have you got any more o’ that Hollands gin, doctor?” whispered the old man, with a leer.
“About another glassful, I dare say.”
“Then I shall be well enough to come, doctor. Nobody shall see what it is. And look here: you keep me alive and well, and you shall have anything you want, doctor. Parson’s master in the church, but I’m master outside, and in the tombs, and in the old Candlish morslem. Like to see in it, doctor?”