Then Meg went about the dismal offices of preparing the dead man for burial, but Brown could see that she was constantly pausing to listen to the sounds which every moment grew louder without. At last a gang of fierce-looking desperadoes poured tumultuously in, their leader abusing the old woman for leaving the door open.
But Meg Merrilies had her answer ready.
"Did you ever hear of a door being barred when a man was in the death-agony?" she cried. "Think ye the spirit could win away through all these bolts and bars?"
"Is he dead, then?" asked one of the ruffians, glancing in the direction of the bed.
"Ay, dead enough," growled another; "but here is the wherewithal to give him a rousing lykewake!" And going to the corner he drew out a large jar of brandy, while Meg busied herself in preparing pipes and tobacco.
Brown in his corner found his mind a little eased when he saw how eagerly she went about her task.
"She does not mean to betray me, then!" he said to himself. Though for all that, he could see no gleam of womanly tenderness on her face, nor imagine any reason she should not give him up to her associates.
That they were a gang of murderers was soon evident from their talk. The man, now wrapped in the dark sea-cloak, whose dead face looked down on their revels, was referred to as one who had often gloried in the murder of Frank Kennedy. But some of the others held that the deed was not wisely done, because after that the people of the country would not do business with the smugglers.
"It did up the trade for one while!" said one; "the people turned rusty!"
Then there were evident threats uttered against some one whose name Brown did not hear.