"That man hass peen det a hundert years," said Morgan.
"All the same, he was running about last night," said Peter, "and I had hold of his leg"—with another shiver.
"He's dead enough now, anyway," said Drillot.
"Eh b'en! leave him where he is, and let's get away. I've heard say there were ghosts on L'Etat, and now I know it. No good comes of meddling with these things."
"But we ought to take him with us."
"Take him with us!" almost shrieked Peter. "And let him loose on Sark! Why then?"
"Whatever he was last night, he's dead enough now.... Will you help me to get him up, John Trevna?"
"Iss, sure! He's got my belt."
"Not in my boat, John Drillot," cried Peter. "Not in my boat. I've had enough of him, pardi!" and he set off at speed for the boat.
"Don't be a fool, Peter. You, Evan Morgan, run down and stop him going. Come on, John Trevna," and after peering cautiously down to make sure the dead man had not moved, they dropped into the well again.