“‘Pon my conscience,” whispered the ratcatcher, “we’re in a nate situation, Mark astore! What did I tell ye ye’r taa-drinkin’ would bring us to? Cromwell’s curse on the importer of the same herb, say I—for luck nor grace niver attended them that took to it! Here we are, as snug as if we were in Newgate, and that’s pleasant.”
“Hush, Shemus,” returned the captain’s companion; “they’re come!” as the steps and voices of several men were heard ascending the lower stairs.
During this brief colloquy, the ratcatcher and his élève had each applied an eye to a fissure in the wood-work; while, ensconced in darkness, they saw distinctly afterwards all that passed within. The room and its occupants are easily described.
The former was a comfortless attic, with a blinded window, a truckle bed, and a few mean articles of furniture. In one corner, there were mattocks and shovels, with other implements of unusual formation, used by gentlemen in the resurrection line; while in another, there appeared a choice collection of jemmies, skeleton keys, and every tool employed in burglary; all bespeaking that the tenant of the room was a person of general acquirements, and equally an adept, whether taken as a cracksman or a body-snatcher.
The appearance of the twain was most remarkable. The elder was, a stout, ill-visaged, swarthy Hebrew, with voluminous whiskers, and a most repulsive face; the other, that thing of legs and arms, whom we have already introduced as the confidant of Mr. Brown.
“How devilish dark!” remarked the hunchback.
“The better at times for business,” returned a second voice. “Stop—there’s a tinder-box on the table;” and the sparkle of flint on steel, was followed by the steadier glare proceeding from a lighted candle.
It was quite apparent that the caution to remain silent from Mrs. Spicer was necessary; for through the chinks in the crazy wood-work of a door which divided the apartments, the slightest sound was heard distinctly.
“We’re full late, and the sooner we are off the better,” returned the first speaker.
“We’ll be time enough for some people, for all that. A man can’t go without his tools, Master Frank; and just keep yourself quiet, and I’ll be with you in a shake.”