“Aye,” growled Larry. “They’re sorry enough duds. Come on, Nick. Let’s heave her aboard.”
They rose, took down their hooks, and seizing the body by them they swung it up into the vehicle.
“Fetch the prancer nearer,” said Nick, as he turned and stepped towards Holles. The horse was led forward some few paces, so that the light from the cart now fell more fully upon the Colonel’s long supine figure.
Nick went down on one knee beside him, and uttered a grunt of satisfaction. “This is better.”
His fellow came to peer over his shoulder.
“A gentry-cove, damme!” he swore with horrible satisfaction. Their practised ghoulish fingers went swiftly over Holles, and they chuckled obscenely at sight of the half-dozen gold pieces displayed in Larry’s filthy paw.
“Not much else,” grumbled one after a further inspection.
“There’s his sword—a rich hilt; look, Larry.”
“And there’s a fine pair o’ stampers,” said Larry, who was already busy about the Colonel’s feet. “Lend a hand, Nick.”
They pulled the boots off and made a bundle of them, together with the Colonel’s hat and cloak. This bundle Larry dropped into a basket that hung behind the cart, whilst Nick remained to strip Holles of his doublet. Suddenly he paused.