"Yes," stammered Mr. Vickley, "but I rather think I—I would as soon not go."
"Then, sir, be silent regarding the going of others. Will you go, sir?" to the churchwarden.
"Why yes, I—I think I ought."
"I shall be obliged to go. I may feel the want of a witness. We will take you with us, Mr. Beadle, of course."
"Me—me? Conwulsions!"
"Yes—yes. You go, you know, ex officio."
"Ex, the deuce, I don't want to go. Oh conwulsions! conwulsions!"
"We cannot dispense with your services," said the churchwarden. "If you refuse to go, it will be my duty to lay your conduct before the vestry."
"Oh—oh—oh!"
"Get a torch," said Sir Richard Blunt, "and I will lower it down the opening in the floor. If the air is not so bad as to extinguish the light, it will not be too bad for us to breathe for a short space of time."