"No, my lord, it has not: and it's only a wonder that, after a good hunt in the vestry cupboard, I at all found the key of it."
"Fortunate that you did," said Sir Richard Blunt, who was all this time making exertions to procure a light, which were as often defeated by the dampness of the air. At length he was successful in igniting a piece of wax candle, and he said—
"Gentlemen, this will show us our way through the church to the vestry, where we can get lanthorns."
"Yes," said the Lord Mayor, who was getting so nervous that he thought himself called upon to make some reply to anything and anybody. "Yes, lanthorns in the vestry."
"Well," said the secretary, "my Lord Mayor, your mayoralty will be distinguished by this dreadful affair for all time to come."
"Many thanks to your lordship, it will."
The secretary smiled as he whispered to his friend Donkin—
"The city magistrate don't seem happy, Donkin."
"Far from it."
At the end of the little narrow, damp, gloomy, cobwebby passage in which they were, was another little door, the upper half of which was of highly ornamented iron fret work, the side of which next to the church interior being gilt. This door likewise yielded to a key which Mr. Villimay produced, and then they found themselves at once in the western aisle of the church.