"And in what way does the business regard you—you, who acknowledge yourself to be—"
"A resurrectionist! Certainly I am—and the most skilful in London, no other excepted," exclaimed Tidkins, with a satanic chuckle. "But that does not prevent me from turning mad-house keeper—or any thing else—when opportunity offers."
"What! you are the keeper of the asylum in which this gentleman's wife is imprisoned!" exclaimed the stock-broker, in a tone of the most profound astonishment.
"Yes, he is indeed," said Chichester; "and a better keeper could not have been found. So now you know all about that point."
"And Mr. Tomlinson will be good enough to accompany me to my house," observed the Resurrection Man. "You, Mr. Chichester, can follow us at a little distance. It looks suspicious for three people to walk together."
"I really must decline—" began Tomlinson, trembling from head to foot, as the warning voice of Michael Martin seemed to ring in his ears.
"One word more, Mr. Tomlinson," said the Resurrection Man. "I am a person of determined spirit and resolution. I never stick at trifles myself; and I don't choose others, with whom I am connected, to balk me in my designs, when I can prevent them. Now, either come with me, and do what is required of you; or, as sure as there is breath in your body, I will deliver up a certain person to the police, and stand the consequences myself."
"I beg of you—I implore you—"
"Pshaw!" cried Chichester: "this is child's play!"
"Child's play, indeed!" thundered the Resurrection Man in a terrible voice. "But I will put an end to it. Come, sir—hesitate another minute, and that old man is lost!"