"Who has got it? Where is it kept?" demanded the Resurrection Man, speaking in a low and sullen whisper.
"The king of the gipsies."
"What—the old fool with a white beard?"
"The same."
"And where does he keep it, I say?"
"I have been told that the bag containing the gipsies' treasure is always placed under his bolster."
"Are you sure of that?" asked the Resurrection Man.
"Certain," was the reply: and now Margaret Flathers began to breathe more freely; for she thought that the object of the terrible individual present was not to kill her, but to obtain back his gold.
"Has any of it been spent?"
"No—no," answered the Rattlesnake, eagerly; although she well knew that a third had been already divided between the royal family, the Traveller, and Skilligalee—those being the persons who had found her asleep beneath the tree, and possessed themselves of her treasure in the first instance.