The landlady wisely let them in, and for a few minutes they
were busy searching the rooms. Then the noise of their feet was heard
on the wooden stair leading up to the garret, whereupon Mr Cupples
turned the poker in the fire, and said to Alec,
"Rin into that hole there, direckly."
He pointed with the red-hot poker to the door already mentioned as
partly sunk in the slope of the ceiling, and then stuck the poker in
the fire again. Alec pulled the door open, and entering closed it
behind him. The next moment, guided by the light from under it, the
foremost footsteps reached the door, and the same instant Mr Cupples
appeared in it with his glowing weapon in his hand. Faces with flashing
eyes filled the dark garret outside.
"What do ye want?" asked Mr Cupples.
"We want a resurrectioner 'at bides i' this hoose--a foul bane-pikin'
doctor," answered a huge, black-faced smith.
"What do ye want wi' _him_?"
"What are _ye_ stan'in' jawin' there for? Haud oot o' the gait. Gin he
bena in your box, what's the odds o' oor luikin' in't?"
"Haud a quaiet sough, my man," answered Cupples, raising the point of
the worn old weapon, the fervency of whose whiteness had already dimmed
to a dull scaly red, "or I s' lat ye ken' at I'm i' my ain hoose.
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