"So it would, Ned," returned Tidkins. "But I'll just finish what I have to say to the old woman; and we'll then go to the point. I was so disgusted, and in such an infernal rage, when I heard you going on in such a rascally manner,—selling me, and taking care of yourself,—that I determined at one time to come down from behind the palings, and force you to tell Katherine Wilmot on the spot all you knew about her parents, and then trust to her generosity. And as the night had turned dark, I had moved away from the spot, and was coming towards you along the path, when you heard the rustling of my cloak. At that instant another idea struck me: I resolved to bring you here, and get the secret out of you. I therefore crept softly back behind the fence. Then you went on with a deal more nonsense—all of which I heard as well as the rest. I was now determined to punish you: so I got back to the inn before you—arranged it all with Banks—and we had you up to London, and safely lodged here in this pleasant little place, that very night. Now, tell me the truth, old woman—don't you deserve it all?"
"Lack-a-day!" crooned the harridan.
"She does indeed deserve it, Tony," said Banks, shaking his head with that solemnity which he had affected so long as at length to use it mechanically: "she's as gammoning an old wessel as ever stood a chance of making a ugly carkiss to be burnt in the bone-house by my friend Jones the grave-digger."
"Now, by Satan!" suddenly ejaculated the Resurrection Man, starting up, and laying his iron hand on the hag's shoulder so as to prevent her from rocking to and fro any longer; "if you don't give up this infernal croaking and moaning, I'll invent some damnable torture to make you tractable. Speak, old wretch!" he shouted in her ears, as he shook her violently: "will you tell us the secret about Katherine Wilmot—or will you not?"
"Not now—not now!" cried the hag: "another time!"
"I will not wait another hour!" ejaculated the Resurrection Man; "but, by God! I'll put you to some torture. What shall we do to her, Banks?"
"Screw her cussed carkiss down in one of my coffins for an hour or so," answered the undertaker.
"No—that won't do," said the Resurrection Man.
"I always punishes my children in that way," observed Banks; "and I find it a wery sallitary example."
"I know what we'll do," exclaimed Tidkins: "they say that Dick Turpin used to put old women on the fire to make them tell where their money was. Suppose we serve this wretched hag out in the same way?"