"Into the town probably as a hearse," Master Nathaniel was saying thoughtfully, "then buried here, then down through my chapel into the secret room in the Guildhall, whence, I suppose, they distribute it by degrees. It's quite clear now how the stuff gets into Lud. All that remains to clear up is how it gets past our Yeomen on the border ... but what's taken you, Ambrose?" For Master Ambrose was simply shaking with laughter; and he did not laugh easily. "Do the dead bleed?" he was repeating between his guffaws; "why, Nat, it's the best joke I've heard these twenty years!" And when he had sufficiently recovered he told Master Nathaniel about the red juice oozing out of the coffin, which he had taken for blood, and how he had frightened Endymion Leer out of his wits by asking him about it. "When, of course, it was a bogus funeral, and what I had seen was the juice of that damned fruit!" and again he was seized with paroxysms of laughter. But Master Nathaniel merely gave an absent smile; there was something vaguely reminiscent in that idea of the dead bleeding--something he had recently read or heard; but, for the moment, he could not remember where. In the meantime, Master Ambrose had recovered his gravity. "Come, come," he cried briskly, "we've not a moment to lose. We must be off at once to Mumchance, rouse him and a couple of his men, and be back in a twinkling to that tapestry-room, to take them red-handed." "You're right, Ambrose! You're right!" cried Master Nathaniel. And off they went at a sharp jog trot, out at the gate, down the hill, and into the sleeping town. They had no difficulty in rousing Mumchance and in firing him with their own enthusiasm. As they told him in a few hurried words what they had discovered, his respect for the Senate went up in leaps and bounds--though he could scarcely credit his ears when he learned of the part played in the evening's transactions by Endymion Leer. "To think of that! To think of that!" he kept repeating, "and me who's always been so friendly with the Doctor, too!" As a matter of fact, Endymion Leer had for some months been the recipient of Mumchance's complaints with regard to the slackness and inefficiency of the Senate; and, in his turn, had succeeded in infecting the good Captain's mind with sinister suspicions against Master Nathaniel. And there was a twinge of conscience for disloyalty to his master, the Mayor, behind the respectful heartiness of his tones as he cried, "Very good, your Worship. It's Green and Juniper what are on duty tonight. I'll go and fetch them from the guard-room, and we should be able to settle the rascals nicely." As the clocks in Lud-in-the-Mist were striking midnight the five of them were stepping cautiously along the corridors of the Guildhall. They had no difficulty in finding the hollow panel, and having pressed the spring, they made their way along the secret passage.