The Resurrection Man laid the wood and coals in the brazier, and applied a match. In a few moments there was a bright blaze, which he fanned by means of the bellows.
"It'll be a good fire in a minute or two," said Tidkins, coolly.
"Almost as good as Jones makes in the bone-house where he burns the blessed carkisses of wenerable defuncts," returned Mr. Banks.
"Don't blow any more, Mr. Tidkins—save yourself the trouble," said the hag, now really alarmed. "I will make terms with you."
"Terms, indeed!" growled the Resurrection Man. "Well—what have you to say?"
"If I tell you every thing, you can get what money you choose out of Katherine," continued the old woman; "and I shall not receive a penny."
"Serve you right for having tried to gammon me."
"That will be very hard—very hard indeed," added the hag. "And after all, when you go to Katherine Wilmot and reveal to her the secrets I communicate to you, she will ask you for proofs—proofs," repeated the old woman, with a cunning leer; "and you will have no proofs to give her."
"Then you shall write out the whole history, and sign it," said Tidkins; "and my friend Banks will witness it."
"Yes," observed the undertaker, smoothing his limp cravat-ends: "Edward Banks, of Globe Lane, Globe Town—Furnisher of Funerals on New and Economic Principles—Good Deal Coffin, Eight Shillings and——"