"What, sir?"
"Robbers—robbers! Don't you know what 'robbers' means? They are all three robbers. Now, I don't think they'll want to fiddle with my money till I'm dead."
"Oh, Lord, sir!"
"'Oh, Lord!' of course. That will do. They won't touch my money till I'm dead, if they trust you; but they will want my desk—at least Larkin will. I shan't be able to look after things, for my head is very bad, and I shall be too drowsy—soon knocked up; so give 'em the desk, if they ask for it, and these keys from under the pillow; and if they ask you if there are any other papers, say no; and don't you tell them one word about the letters you've put between the beds here. If you betray me—you're a religious woman—yes—and believe in God—may God d—n you; and He will, for you'll be accessory to the villany of those three miscreants. And now I've done what in me lies; and that is all—my last testament."
And Mr. Dingwell lay down wearily. Sarah Rumble knew that he was very ill; she had attended people in fever, and seen them die. Mr. Dingwell was already perceptibly worse. As she was coming up with some whey, a knock came to the door, and opening it she saw Mr. Levi, with a very surly countenance, and his dark eyes blazing fiercely on her.
"How'sh Dingwell now?" he demanded, before he had time to enter, and shut the door; "worse, is he?"
"Well, he's duller, sir."
"In his bed? Shut the door."
"Yes, sir, please. Didn't get up this morning. He expected you two hours ago, sir."
Levi nodded.