“Is there not,” asked Ordener, equally surprised, “any other living being dwelling here besides yourself?” “You remind me of my assistant, Oglypiglap,” replied Spiagudry, reassured by the thought. “It was probably his snores which we heard. A sleeping Lapp, Bishop Arngrimmsson says, makes as much noise as a waking woman.” As they talked, they approached the door of the Spladgest. Spiagudry opened it softly. “Good-by, young sir,” he said to Ordener; “may Heaven keep you merry. Good-by until to-night. If your road lead you by the cross of Saint Hospitius, deign to utter a prayer for your wretched servant, Benignus Spiagudry.” Then hastily closing the door, as much through fear of being seen as to guard his lamp from the early morning breezes, he returned to Gill’s corpse, and did his best so to arrange it that the wound might not be perceived. Many reasons combined to persuade the timid keeper to accept the stranger’s perilous offer. The motives for his bold resolve may be ranked as follows: (1) fear of Ordener here and now; (2) dread of Orugix the hangman; (3) an ancient grudge against Hans of Iceland,--a grudge which he scarcely dared acknowledge even to himself, so strong was the power of fear; (4) a love of science, which would benefit largely by his journey; (5) confidence in his own cunning, which would enable him to evade Hans; (6) a wholly speculative attraction for certain metal contained in the young adventurer’s purse, and probably also in the iron casket stolen from the captain and intended for Widow Stadt, a message which now ran a great risk of never leaving the messenger’s hands. Still another and a final reason was the well or ill founded hope of returning sooner or later to the post which he was about to desert. Besides, what did it matter to him whether the robber killed the traveller, or the traveller the robber? At this point in his meditations he could not help saying aloud: “It will be one more corpse for me, anyhow.” Another growl was heard, and the unhappy keeper shivered. “Indeed, that is not Oglypiglap’s snore,” said he; “that noise comes from without.” Then, after a moment’s thought, he added: “How silly I am to be so frightened! The dog on the wharf probably waked and barked.” Then he finished his arrangement of Gill’s disfigured remains, and closing all the doors, threw himself upon his mattress to sleep off the fatigue of the past night and gain strength for the coming one. [Illustration: _Schumacker and his Daughter in the Prison Garden._ Photo-Etching.--From drawing by Démarest.] IX. _Juliet._ Oh, think’st thou we shall ever meet again? _Romeo._ I doubt it not: and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come. SHAKESPEARE: _Romeo and Juliet_.