"What!" cried the beadle. "What did you say, Sir Richard?"
"I merely said that I was apprehensive Todd might have concocted some means of blowing up the church, that is all."
"And me in it! And me in it! Conwulsions!"
The beadle did not pause for another moment, but rushing to the door, he flew out of the church as if a barrel of gunpowder had been rolling after him, nor did he stop until he got right through Temple-bar and some distance down the Strand.
"I am afraid I have frightened away our friend, the beadle," said Sir Richard Blunt.
"And I don't wonder at it," replied Sir Christopher Wren. "I should not like exactly to be blown up along with the fragments of old St. Dunstan's Church myself, so I will go."
"Ah, I am sorry I mentioned it."
"Are you though? I am very much obliged to you for so doing. Excuse me, Sir Richard, for bidding you good-morning rather abruptly, if you please."
Sir Richard Blunt laughed as he bade Sir Christopher and his friend good-morning—by-the-by, the friend had already made his way outside the church-door, and was waiting for Sir Christopher in no small degree of trepidation.
"For God's sake," he said, "come along at once, or we may all be blown up together."