“Sancta Maria!” said Foster—­“I mean, God in His mercy preserve us from covetousness and deadly sin!—­Had he not had projection, think you?  Saw you no ingots in the crucibles?”

“Nay, I looked not but at the dead carrion,” answered Varney; “an ugly spectacle—­he was swollen like a corpse three days exposed on the wheel.  Pah! give me a cup of wine.”

“I will go,” said Foster, “I will examine myself—­” He took the lamp, and hastened to the door, but there hesitated and paused.  “Will you not go with me?” said he to Varney.

“To what purpose?” said Varney; “I have seen and smelled enough to spoil my appetite.  I broke the window, however, and let in the air; it reeked of sulphur, and such like suffocating steams, as if the very devil had been there.”

“And might it not be the act of the demon himself?” said Foster, still hesitating; “I have heard he is powerful at such times, and with such people.”

“Still, if it were that Satan of thine,” answered Varney, “who thus jades thy imagination, thou art in perfect safety, unless he is a most unconscionable devil indeed.  He hath had two good sops of late.”

“How two sops—­what mean you?” said Foster—­“what mean you?”

“You will know in time,” said Varney;—­“and then this other banquet—­but thou wilt esteem Her too choice a morsel for the fiend’s tooth—­she must have her psalms, and harps, and seraphs.”

Anthony Foster heard, and came slowly back to the table.  “God!  Sir Richard, and must that then be done?”

“Ay, in very truth, Anthony, or there comes no copyhold in thy way,” replied his inflexible associate.

“I always foresaw it would land there!” said Foster.  “But how, Sir Richard, how?—­for not to win the world would I put hands on her.”

“I cannot blame thee,” said Varney; “I should be reluctant to do that myself.  We miss Alasco and his manna sorely—­ay, and the dog Lambourne.”

“Why, where tarries Lambourne?” said Anthony.

“Ask no questions,” said Varney, “thou wilt see him one day if thy creed is true.  But to our graver matter.  I will teach thee a spring, Tony, to catch a pewit.  Yonder trap-door—­yonder gimcrack of thine, will remain secure in appearance, will it not, though the supports are withdrawn beneath?”

“Ay, marry, will it,” said Foster; “so long as it is not trodden on.”

“But were the lady to attempt an escape over it,” replied Varney, “her weight would carry it down?”

“A mouse’s weight would do it,” said Foster.

“Why, then, she dies in attempting her escape, and what could you or I help it, honest Tony?  Let us to bed, we will adjust our project to-morrow.”