"Destroyed them!" cried Tim Splint. "Stole them, you mean?"
"No—destroyed them—wantonly destroyed them—destroyed them all—all!" yelled forth Old Death, his usually sepulchral voice becoming thrilling and penetrating with hyena-like rage. "The miscreant!—the fiend! All—all was destroyed! Thousands and thousands of pounds' worth of valuables wantonly—wilfully—methodically destroyed! I did not see the work of ruin: but I know that it must have taken place—because the man of whom I speak is what the world calls honourable! Perdition take such honour!"
"But of what use was all that property to you, since you didn't convert it into money?" demanded Josh Pedler.
"Of what use?" cried Old Death, again speaking in that yelling tone which manifested violent emotions. "Is there no use in keeping precious things to look at—to gloat upon—to calculate their value? To be sure—to be sure there is," he continued, with a horrible chuckle. "But of that no matter. It is sufficient for you to know that I was deprived in one hour—in one minute, as you may say—of that property which had been accumulating for years. And the house, too, which was mine so long—which I had purchased on account of its conveniences,—even those premises this man of whom I speak, made me sell him. But I swore to have vengeance on him—I told him so when we parted—and I will keep my word!"
"Who is this person that you speak of?" asked Tim the Snammer.
"The Earl of Ellingham," was the reply.
"He is a great and a powerful nobleman, I suppose," observed Tim. "It will be difficult and dangerous to do him any harm."
"What's a nobleman more than another?" cried John Jeffreys. "I for one will undertake any thing that our friend Mr. Bones may propose."
"And so will I—if we're well paid," added Josh Pedler. "But there's one thing I must mention while I think on it. Don't none of you ever speak about that affair down at Torrings's, you know—the cut-throat business, I mean—before my blowen, Matilda. I like to have a little comfort at home; and a woman's tongue is the devil, when it's set a wagging in the blowing-up way."
"We'll mind our p's and q's before 'Tilda," said Tim the Snammer. "It isn't likely that any of us would be such fools as to talk of that business to women, or to others besides ourselves. But let Mr. Bones continue his explanations."