Silence, absolute. Abishai could stand it no longer. He groaned and collapsed on his knees.
“She has!” he moaned. “She's done it and there ain't nothin' in there but her remains. Oh, my soul!”
Ellery, now rather frightened himself, shook him violently.
“Be quiet, you idiot!” he commanded. “We must go in. Give me the key.”
After repeated orders and accompanying shakings, Kyan produced a key. The minister snatched it from his trembling fingers, felt for the keyhole and threw the door open. The little room was almost as dark as the hall and quite as still. There was a distinct smell of old clothes and camphor.
“A match,” demanded Ellery. “Quick!”
“I ain't got none,” quavered Mr. Pepper. “They're all in the box in the settin' room. Oh, my godfreys mighty! What'll I do? What undertaker'll I have? Solon Tripp's the reg'lar one, but Laviny and he had a row and she said she'd come back and ha'nt me if I ever let him touch her rema—Where you goin'? DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!”
The minister was going after a match, and said so. In a moment he returned with several. One of these he lit. The brimstone sputtered, burned blue and fragrant, then burst into a yellow flame.
The little room was empty.
John Ellery drew a breath of relief. Then he laughed.