A trap was opened above, and a light streamed down upon him.
"What do you want?" cried a gruff voice, speaking through the trap-door in the ceiling.
"Open—open!" exclaimed the Resurrection Man; "let me in, and I will reward you well."
The trap was closed; the lobby was again pitch-dark, as it was before the light streamed down into it; and in a few moments the house-door was opened.
The Resurrection Man rushed in: the door was closed once more; and the villain exclaimed, "I have done them, by God!"
"Who are you?" asked the man who had opened the door, and who had the appearance of a gipsy.
"Judging by the way in which your house is secured, my good friend," was the reply, "there can be no harm in telling you that I am persecuted by blue-bottles—a race which cannot be altogether unknown to you."
"That's enough," said the gipsy; "you are safe here. Follow me."
The gipsy led the Resurrection Man into one of the lower rooms, where King Zingary, Morcar, and five or six gipsy-chiefs were carousing. The Rattlesnake was up stairs with the other women; the Traveller was not yet returned from his day's hunt after his enemy; and the greater number of the gipsies had already taken their departure from London.
The Resurrection Man was well aware that the gipsies had an establishment in that district of London; but he had never been previously acquainted with its precise whereabouts. It, however, now instantly struck him that accident had led him into that very establishment.