“Undoubtedly,” replied Matthew, “if I get better.  But not otherwise.  Money would be of no use to me in the grave.”

“But it would be of use to me,” replied his wife.

“Perhaps it might,” replied the sexton; “but if I die, the knowledge of the treasure shall die with me.”

“He is deceiving me,” thought Judith, beginning to rub his shoulder afresh.

“I suspect you have played me false, you jade,” cried Malmayns, writhing with pain.  “The stuff you have applied burns like caustic, and eats into my flesh.”

“It is doing its duty,” replied his wife, calmly watching his agonies.  “You will soon be easier.”

“Perhaps I shall—­in death,” groaned the sufferer.  “I am parched with thirst.  Give me a glass of water.”

“You shall have wine, Matthew, if you prefer it.  I have a flask in my pocket,” she replied.  “But what of the treasure—­where is it?”

“Peace!” he cried.  “I will baulk your avaricious hopes.  You shall never know where it is.”

“I shall know as much as you do,” she rejoined, in a tone of incredulity.  “I don’t believe a word you tell me.  You have found no treasure.”

“If this is the last word I shall ever utter, I have,” he returned; —­“a mighty treasure.  But you shall never possess it—­never!—­ah! ah!”

“Nor shall you have the wine,” she replied; “there is water for you,” she added, handing him a jug, which he drained with frantic eagerness.  “He is a dead man,” she muttered.

“I am chilled to the heart,” grasped the sexton, shivering from head to foot, while chill damps gathered on his brow.  “I have done wrong in drinking the water, and you ought not to have given it me.”

“You asked for it,” she replied.  “You should have had wine but for your obstinacy.  But I will save you yet, if you will tell me where to find the treasure.”

“Look for it in my grave,” he returned, with a hideous grin.

Soon after this, he fell into a sort of stupor.  His wife could now have easily put a period to his existence, but she still hoped to wrest the secret from him.  She was assured, moreover, that his recovery was hopeless.  At the expiration of about two hours, he was aroused by the excruciating anguish of his sore.  He had again become delirious, and raved as before about coffins, corpses, graves, and other loathsome matters.  Seeing, from his altered looks and the livid and gangrenous appearance which the tumour had assumed, that his end was not far off, Judith resolved not to lose a moment, but to try the effect of a sudden surprise.  Accordingly, she bent down her head, and shouted in his ear, “What has become of your treasure, Matthew?”

The plan succeeded to a miracle.  The dying man instantly raised himself.

“My treasure!” he echoed with a yell that made the vault ring again.  “Well thought on!  I have not secured it.  They are carrying it off.  I must prevent them.”  And throwing off the coverings, he sprang out of bed.