He drew back with a deep sigh.
"He is saved!" he said. "He is saved! It is not to be!"
Quite unconscious of the serious danger he had so narrowly escaped, Sir Richard went to the mouth of the opening to the vaults, and called out—
"Crotchet! Crotchet!"
"Here you is, sir," replied Crotchet; "I was just coming. It's all right. The old wagabone hasn't done nothing, sir, to spread the fire out of his own blessed premises, as I can see. The church isn't in danger, sir, I take it."
"Very good, Crotchet; then we need not remain here any longer. I cannot, for the life of me, think what has become of our man that we left in Todd's house. In all the riot and racket of the fire, no one seems to be at all aware of what has become of him. Is he a steady sort of a man, Crotchet?"
"Why yes, Sir Richard, he is. But if the truth must be told, he has got the fault of many. He is fond of the—"
Here Crotchet went through expressively the pantomime of placing a glass to his lips and draining it off, after which he rubbed his stomach, as much as to say—"Isn't it nice!"
"I understand, Crotchet: he drinks."
"Rather, Sir Richard."