The valet shuddered as this question occurred to him;—for the nature of the apparatus, the secresy of the whole proceeding, and the bad opinion which Eliza Sydney's hints had induced him to form of him whom he, however, only knew as James White,—these circumstances combined to fill Quentin's mind with a terrible suspicion that Tidkins was dragging for a dead body.
The Resurrection Man drew up his drag with a terrible oath, uttered aloud, and expressive of disappointment.
"And yet this must be the spot!" he added, as he disentangled the hooks from the cord. "I went over the whole grounds this morning—and I could swear it was here that——"
The conclusion of the sentence was muttered to himself, and therefore remained unheard by the valet.
The drag was thrown into the water a second time; and, at the expiration of a few moments, Tidkins gave utterance to an exclamation expressive of satisfaction.
Then he retreated slowly from the edge of the pond, as if dragging a heavy object out of the water.
From behind the hedge Quentin strained his eyes, with mingled feelings of curiosity and terror, to scrutinise as narrowly as possible the real meaning of this strange and mysterious proceeding. At length there was a strong gurgling of the water; and in another moment a large dark object was moving slowly and heavily up the steep bank.
A cold shudder crept over the valet's frame; for that object bore the appearance of a corpse!
He would have taken to flight—he would have escaped from the contemplation of such a strange and appalling scene—he would have hastened back to the mansion to raise an alarm;—but vague fears—ineffable horror bound him as it were to the spot—paralysed his limbs—and compelled him to remain a spectator of the dark proceeding.
The object was safely landed upon the bank: there was a sharp crack as of a match—a small blue flame suddenly appeared—and then Tidkins lighted the candle in his lantern.