"What's the matter, Ferret?" he asked.
"Thought I saw something," said the stoop-shouldered man. "It looked like a gleam, there in the little hall."
"Too much bill counting," declared Butcher seriously. "I've gone goggle-eyed this past week. Guess it's getting Ferret, too."
Ferret was moving back into his chair. He was grinning at Butchers remark. It made light of his alarm.
"All right," said Judge quietly. "Settle down now and listen. Things look normal. So we will start the carry on Saturday night. Handle the bulk then — maybe some on Sunday. The rest can wait a week."
"In case it's needed in the meantime," observed Major.
"Yes," continued Judge, with a nod. "Deacon is ready. He has been using the hearse nights, disposing of those old coffins he put up for sale. He has sold only a few of them — it is a wonder he has managed to do that, with the high prices he is asking."
"Yes," observed Major. "It's odd how a little detail like that can make trouble. I was talking to Deacon about it the other night. He had to dodge a couple of customers. I think he has about half a dozen left, not counting those he sold to Bronlon — which he hasn't delivered yet."
"Baron Bronlon," declared Judge, with a slight smile, "thinks of the welfare of his subjects — even to the point of buying coffins at a bargain price, so that they can get them at cost when they die. He certainly rules this part of the country!"
"Which suits us perfectly," said Major.