"How do you call the individual who attacked him?" demanded Richard.
"The Traveller," answered the Skilligalee. "But, it appears, that he had another name—Crankey Jem: at least, he said so after he had stabbed the man."
"I should know that name," said Richard, musing. "Oh! I remember! Proceed."
"Well—in consequence of something that the Resurrection Man told Aischa, when she was attending to his wound, it was determined to take him along with us; and four of our men carried him down to the van which was waiting at the back gate. He groaned very much while he was being removed."
"I heard him," said Richard, instantaneously recalling to mind the groans which had met his ears when he was listening at his chamber door to the bustle of the gipsies' departure.
"You heard him?" repeated Skilligalee.
"Yes—I was in the house at the time. Proceed."
"We conveyed him down to the van, where we laid him on a mattress, and he seemed to fall asleep. Then we all divided into twos and threes, and got safe out of London, into a field near the Pentonville Penitentiary. But when the van, with Aischa, Eva, and Morcar,—those are some of our people, sir,—came to the place of appointment, we found," added Skilligalee, his voice assuming a peculiar tone, "that the Resurrection Man was dead."
"God be thanked!" ejaculated the Rattlesnake, with a fervour which made Markham's blood run cold.
"And now that I have told you all I know, sir," said Skilligalee, "you will have no objection if me and my companion here go about our business; for it is dangerous to both our interests to remain here any longer."