The man struck a light.
By a natural impulse he and Markham immediately cast scrutinising glances at each other.
"Ah! I thought so by your voice—you are a gentleman," said the man: "then you will not betray me?"
"Betray you!" repeated Markham, surprised at this observation.
"I will tell you what I mean presently: there is no time to be lost! Hark—another groan: she is dying!"
The man, who was tall and good-looking, and evidently not a scion of the Bohemian race—gave Markham the candle, and proceeded to open the massive door, the presence of the light enabling him to remove the fastenings with ease.
He then beckoned Richard to follow him into the cellar, where he instantly set to work to draw the bolts of a second door.
This task was speedily accomplished; and as the door grated upon its hinges, another heart-wrung moan emanated from the interior of the second vault.
The man rushed in; Markham followed with the light, and beheld a woman stretched almost lifeless upon the mattress.
The groans had all along emanated from her lips:—then where was the Resurrection Man?