I took fifteen guineas from my pocket, and put them before him. "There is more money than you would get in a whole year," I said. "If I don't bring back the keys in safety, you'll have that money to take you where you like to go, and if I bring back the keys you shall have five of them for your trouble in lending them to me." "You'm sure you won't do no harm." "Perfectly." "Then take 'em," and going to a little recess in the room he took the keys from a nail and gave them to me. "I expect you to be waiting for me here when I come back," I said. "Oa, never fear, I sha'ant steer out of the 'ouse," was his reply. I took a lantern, in which the old man had placed a candle, and prepared to start. "You'm sure you beant goin' to do nothin' wrong," he said. "Perfectly," I replied. "You will not regret it for an instant." He looked at me again, then, as if they were an enormous fortune, at the guineas that lay on the table, and seemed reconciled. "Tha's the kay of the church," he said, pointing to the biggest in the bunch, "the churchyard gates is allays left unlocked. And I'll be waitin for 'ee when you come back. How long shall 'ee be?" "I don't know; perhaps an hour," and with a beating heart I went away towards the church. It was a great, grey, gloomy pile, the four steeples on the square tower at the western end reminding me of the prongs of the "Devil's Tooth." I entered the churchyard gates. All was silent as death. I had expected it to be so; no one ever dared to enter there after dark, unless it was a cluster of worshippers gathered together in church time. Even this did not happen often, for rarely was an evening service held there. Like many other country churches in Cornwall, the time of worship was morning and afternoon. Had I got into the church in the afternoon I should not have been free from observation, for the country folk are courageous in the daytime, and often prowl around the churchyard; but at night I knew if I entered I should be left unmolested. Slowly I wended my way down the churchyard path. I began to realise now what I was going to do, and for the first time the thought struck terror. Yet did I not hesitate in my purpose. I remembered every superstitious association of my early childhood. Stories of the troubled dead roaming around their graves came back to my mind. I saw the grey tombstones grim and lonely, as if inviting those in whose memory they were erected to bear them company through the silent night. A lonely churchyard is an awful place, and this one seemed more awful than others to me, who was about to visit the dead! How plainly my footsteps sounded as I went down the gravelled footpath. I felt as though I were disturbing the dead in their graves.