“You’re taking a risk,” continued the grave digger.
“How so?”
“The plague.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Gyves.
“And, furthermore, it’s a crime.”
“Go back to your hole,” growled Gyves.
“For you are rifling the body of the dead,” continued the man, raising his voice.
Gyves had found the corpse of Tabbard; and, at the last loud words, he was thrusting his hands into the pockets of the dead man.
“Keep your clapper still,” sneered Gyves, contemptuously.
The man turned and ran toward the house near the open gate of the cemetery, yelling for help as he did so. Gyves had already completed his search; there was nothing in the pockets. As he clambered off the pile, he saw a man from the house meet the grave-digger. They came toward him. Their looks were menacing and the newcomer held a blunderbuss in his hands. Gyves could not retreat, so he confronted them.