He was master of the field, it was true; the foe had fled; but there he was, left alone, with nothing but coffins, and shrouds, and other remnants of humanity, scattered around him. The door, too, was bolted; he had heard them fasten it; the other door they had talked of might be locked, and he might have to remain where he was till some person in the neighbourhood chose to die and be buried, or till hunger, fright, cold, and solitude, added his bones to the bones that were mouldering around. He calculated the chances; he entered into the details with painful minuteness; he knew that the parish was large, but very thinly peopled. There might be a funeral once a quarter, but not more, except when some epidemic raged in Hull, and people took a fancy for country lodging before or after death. Then he thought, with a glimpse of hope, that on Sunday there would be a congregation in the church, and he could make them hear; but Sunday was a long way off, for this was only Wednesday, and Diggory Falgate set himself to compute how long he could hold out. Thursday, Friday, Saturday--three days and a half! He had often fasted two, for very good reasons, but then it was not in a vault; it was not amongst dead corpses: it was under the free sky, with the fresh breath of heaven blowing on his cheek, and beautiful nature refreshing him with bright sights. The case was very different at present, and his knees began to shake at the very thought. Then, however, he did what he should have done at first, but that Imagination, when she gets the bit between her teeth, is such a runaway jade that she carries one through all the ponds and quagmires of possibility in five minutes. He set out in search of the other door, to see whether there was any need of alarming himself at all. He took two steps forward, and then a third; the fourth struck against something that made a sort of creaking sound--something even softer than the skull of a man of fashion; and holding down the lantern he perceived the basket of Ezekiel Dry. His heart was instantly revived, and stooping over it he drew forth the bottle of genuine Nantz which the worthy Puritan had boasted of, and with a good conscience he put it to his mouth. The contents had certainly been diminished by the original proprietor and his friend; but still there was nearly half a bottle left, and that would, he thought, with prudence and economy, serve to keep him up till he could get help. There was some bread and cheese, too, in the basket, and the mouthful of spirits having acted speedily with cheering effect, he looked upon himself as provided against the worst contingency; and in a moment after his eye lighted on a crowbar, a mallet, and a chisel, with which he flattered himself he could unbar any door that ever yet was closed.