“Nor I—nor I!” murmured Mrs. Mortimer. “But to-night—I feel also as if——”
“Hark!” suddenly cried Vitriol Bob: “there is a noise again!”
“It must be the old man!” ejaculated the Doctor. “Are you sure that you did for him thoroughly?”
“If anythink like him meets your eyes, Jack, it must be his ghost, I can assure you,” was the solemn answer—although Vitriol Bob himself partook not in the slightest degree of the superstitious terrors that had grown upon his companions, but was on the contrary inwardly chuckling with malignant joy at their awe-struck state of mind.
“There! did you hear it?” demanded Mrs. Mortimer, in a hasty and excited tone. “I am sure it was a noise this time: there could be no mistake about it!”
And she endeavoured to rise from her chair;—but terror kept her motionless—paralysing every limb, though not placing a seal upon her lips.
“Something dreadful is to happen to-night—I know it—I feel it!” said Jack Rily, in a tone which indicated remorse for a long career of crime and turpitude. “By God! ’tis the back-door of the house that is opening——”
“Then this is serious indeed!” interrupted Vitriol Bob, now alarmed in his turn—but rather on account of constables than spectres. “Unloose me—let us fight—resist——”
“Silence!” muttered Jack Rily, in a low but imperious tone.
There was a pause of nearly a minute, during which the three inmates of the kitchen held their breath to listen, in painful suspense.