Lewis stood in irresolution; his terror for the fate of Henry Arkell was strong upon him. He flew after George Prattleton.
"Will you do me a favour?" he panted, completely out of breath in his haste and agitation. "I want to get into the church, and Hunt has turned obstinate about the key. Will you get it from him for me?"
Mr. Prattleton stopped and gazed at him. "You cannot want anything in the church, Lewis. What are you up to?"
"Do get the key for me," he entreated, unable to help betraying his emotion. "I must go in; I must, Mr. Prattleton. It may be a matter of life or death."
"You are ill, Lewis; you are agitated. What is all this?"
"I am not ill. I only want to get into the church."
"For what purpose?"
"It's a little private matter of my own."
"You can tell me what it is."
"No, I cannot do that."