"Underneath," replied Banks: "I took good care of that. I knowed very well that you'd want to draw the body up by the head, and that the money must be so placed as to come along with it."
"Of course," said the Buffer; "or else we should have to dig out all the earth, and break open the lid of the coffin; and that takes twice as long as to do the job t' other way."
"At what time is the sawbones coming down to the grave-yard?" asked Banks.
"He isn't coming at all," returned the Resurrection Man: "but I promised that we would be at his place at half-past one o'clock to-night."
"Too early!" exclaimed the Buffer. "We can't think of beginning work 'afore twelve. The place ain't quiet till then."
"Well, and an hour will do the business," said the Resurrection Man. "Besides, the saw-bones will set up for us. Now then, Meg, clear away, and let's have the blue ruin and hot water. I must just write a short note to a gentleman with whom I have a little business of a private nature; and you can run and take it to the post presently."
The Resurrection Man seated himself at a little side-table, and penned a hasty letter, which he folded, sealed, and addressed to "Arthur Chichester, Esq., Cambridge Heath, near Hackney."
Margaret Flathers took it to the post-office, which was in the immediate neighbourhood.
On her return, the Resurrection Man said, "Now you and Moll try your hands at some punch,—and make it pretty stiff too—just as you like it yourselves."
This command was obeyed; and the three men betook themselves to their pipes, while the women set to work to brew a mighty jorum of gin-punch in an earthenware pitcher that held about a gallon and a half. The potent beverage was speedily served up; and the conversation grew animated. Even the moroseness of the Resurrection Man partially gave way before the exhilarating fluid; and he narrated a variety of incidents connected with the pursuits of his criminal career.