Phillis took up a corner of the sheet, unlocked the door--in which the key was left--and opened it half an inch for Jelly to peep in. There, in the middle of the grey room stood a closed coffin, supported on trestles. In the shock of surprise Jelly fell back against the wall, and began to tremble.
The idea that came over her--as she said to some one afterwards--was, that Mrs. Rane had been put into the coffin alive. What with the sight of the previous night (and Jelly did not yet fully admit to herself what that sight might have been), and what with this, she felt in a sort of hopeless horror and bewilderment. Recovering a little, she pushed past the sheet into the room, but with creeping, timid steps.
"Jelly, I wouldn't go in! The master charged me not to do so."
But Jelly heard not. Or, if she heard, did not heed. It was a common deal shell: nailed down. Jelly touched it with her finger.
"When was she put in here, Phillis?"
"Sometime during the night."
"And fastened down at once?"
"To be sure. I found it like this when I came this morning."
"But--why need there have been so much haste?"
"Because it was safest so. Safest for us that are living, as my master said. The leaden one will be here to-day."