Diggory Falgate did not like their proceedings at all, though he would by no means have objected to a glass of cordial waters himself. But they were evidently about to break open one of the coffins--every word showed it; to violate the sanctity of the grave--to disturb the ashes of the dead; and the poor painter had sufficient refinement of feeling to think that the drinking of intoxicating liquors, while so engaged, was an aggravation of their offence. The collocation of "genuine Nantz, I declare," with "there stands the coffin," shocked and horrified him; and he paused for a moment to consider, feeling as if it would render him almost a partaker in the sacrilege if he were to descend into the vault. A moment's thought, however, settled this case of conscience; and by the time that he had settled his plan he heard a hollow noise, as if some hard substance had struck against an empty chest. "Now is the time," he thought; "they are busy at their hellish work." There stood the lantern on the ground beneath; the men were evidently at some small distance. If he could get possession of the light and shade it, they were at his mercy; and the only difficulty was how to descend the stairs without calling their attention. Recollecting, however, that it was the invariable practice of ghosts, whatever sounds they might produce with any other organs with which they may be endowed, to make no noise with their feet, the good painter stooped down, took off his shoes, and put them in his pockets. Then with a quiet and stealthy step he began the descent, totally unperceived by those who were by this time busily engaged wrenching and tearing some well-fastened woodwork. Stooping down before he quite reached the bottom of the steps, Diggory Falgate looked into the vault, and immediately perceived two men, both of them somewhat advanced in life--one a thin, tall, puritanical-looking person, dressed in black, raising with a chisel and mallet the lid of a coffin which stood upon the ground. Forty or fifty other coffins, some small and narrow, some large, were within the pale glimpse of the lantern, and the painter's imagination filled up the dark space which the rays did not reach with similar mementoes of mortality. On his left hand, near the foot of the stairs, were four coffins placed in a row, with three others laid crosswise upon them, and all raised two or three feet from the floor by trestles. There was a narrow sort of lane behind, between them and the damp wall, and taking another step down, he brought himself as far on that side as possible. Just at that moment one of the men turned a little, so as to bring his profile within the painter's view, and he instantly recognised a face that he had seen at the "Swan" Inn in Hull, the day before his expedition with Captain Barecolt and Arrah Neil.