The Resurrection Man drew a pistol from his pocket, and advanced to the head of the king's couch.
The Rattlesnake remained in the middle of the room, holding the candle.
Tidkins cautiously introduced his hand beneath the bolster; and, to his inexpressible joy, his fingers came in contact with a bag evidently containing no small quantity of coin.
By the sudden flash of delight which overspread his countenance, the Rattlesnake perceived that her words had not misled him; and she rejoiced in her turn—for she had dreaded the consequences of any disappointment experienced on his part.
A difficult task yet remained for the Resurrection Man to perform: he had to draw the bag, as gently as he could, from beneath the king's head. At one moment a horrible idea entered his imagination;—he thought of cutting the old man's throat, in order to abstract the treasure without molestation. But then, there was the other man who might happen to awake! Accordingly he abandoned this horrible scheme, and commenced his task of slowly removing the bag.
But just at the moment when this difficulty seemed entirely overcome, Morcar started up in the next bed, and uttered a loud cry.
The candle fell from the hands of the Rattlesnake, and was extinguished. Availing himself of the darkness into which the room was thus suddenly plunged, the Resurrection Man seized the bag, and darted towards the door.
But scarcely had he set foot in the adjacent passage, when the deep tones of a bell suddenly boomed throughout the house; and the notes of the tocsin were instantly responded to by the clamour of voices and the rushing of many persons from the various rooms to know the cause of the alarm.
The entire house was now in confusion: the alarm, which Morcar rang, awoke every one throughout the establishment.
Meantime, the Resurrection Man had precipitated himself down stairs, and had already begun to unbolt the front door, when lights appeared, and in another moment he was surrounded by the gipsy chiefs, and pinioned by them.