"If I tell you that," said Tidkins, "what guarantee have I got that you will not post off alone to her, extort the purchase-money for your secrets, and chouse me out of my reglars? Look you—I have been at the trouble and expense of finding her out—which you never could have done—and I must go halves with you in the produce of the affair."
"So you shall—so you may," returned the old woman. "But I will not speak to her in your hearing. I don't know how it is that I have a strange superstitious awe in connexion with all that concerns Harriet Wilmot's memory and the existence of her child. I cannot help the feeling—I cannot help it."
"By Satan," exclaimed the Resurrection Man, darting a furious glance upon the hag, "you are either a drivelling fool, or you are deceiving me. You entertain compunction about these Wilmots—and yet you purpose to obtain money from the girl. Now is this consistent? Take care how you play with me; for—if I catch you out in any of your tricks—I will hang you up to your own bedpost as readily as I would wring the neck of that damned old cat."
"You shall see whether I will deceive you—you shall see," cried the old hag, with some degree of alarm. "Arrange the business as you will, so long as I may have speech of Katherine without being overheard; but you shall be present when she pays me for the secret which I have to communicate."
"Let that be the understanding, and I am agreeable," observed the Resurrection Man. "Will it suit you to go a few miles out of town with me to-morrow."
"Is it to see Katherine?" inquired the hag.
"What the devil else do you think I want your company for?" cried Tidkins: "to take you to dine at Greenwich or Blackwall—eh? Not quite such a fool as that! However, to-morrow morning you may expect me at seven o'clock——"
"It is not light at that hour," observed the hag.
"I prefer the dusk of either morning or evening," answered the Resurrection Man. "It suits me better—because I have a few enemies in London. But, as I was saying, I shall call for you at seven to-morrow morning; a friend of mine—one Banks of Globe Town—has a covered spring-cart and a capital bit of horse-flesh. He will drive us to where we have to go, in no time. So don't keep us waiting—as the vehicle will be at the bottom of the lane by a quarter to seven."
The old hag promised to be punctual; and the Resurrection Man took his departure from her den.