Advancing towards Zingary, he said, "If I am not mistaken, this is the crib where the famous race of Bohemians and Egyptians are accustomed to meet in London. I claim of them hospitality for a few hours."
"As long as suits your interests, friend," answered the King. "Sit down, and do as we do."
The Resurrection Man needed no second invitation. He took the seat offered him near the royal chair, and, in pursuance of another invitation, speedily made himself comfortable with a snicker of rum-flim and a broseley.
"Booze and be merry," said the King: "we shall have nothing to interrupt our merriment to-night; the women have all gone to roost, that they may get up early, for we leave the Holy Land to-morrow morning. At five o'clock we depart. But you, my friend," he continued, addressing himself to the Resurrection Man, "are welcome to remain here a day or two, if such a plan suits your safety, as I suppose it does. We leave an intendant of our royal palace behind us."
At this moment Skilligalee entered the room, and took his seat at the board.
"All is quiet up stairs, your majesty," said this individual; "and so I suppose the women are gone to the downy. They all seem glad at the idea of leaving London to-morrow morning."
"And none more so, I think, than your Margaret," observed the King, with a laugh. "She seems dreadfully afraid of that man who, she says, is in pursuit of her."
The Resurrection Man was immediately struck by these remarks: he became all attention, but said nothing.
"If you knew all," cried Skilligalee, "you would not blame her. It appears that the fellow is a perfect demon. His regular trade is in dead bodies; and so he can't be very nice."
"It is the Rattlesnake—it must be!" said the Resurrection Man to himself.