He sat thinking and gazing at the body by his side, with its form grotesquely marked through the covering sheet. "It is getting the better of me," he said aloud, "and I must not give way. Lunacy is often the development of one idea, while, in other respects, the patient is _compos mentis_. No, no; a lunatic could not feel as I do. I am too calm and self-contained, and yet here it is. Great Heaven! is it possible that I could have arrested the ethereal, the spiritual, part of this man--have retained his essence here, while the body is going back to decay?" He stood staring down at the slab from which he had started, his eyes dilated, and a wild look of horror in his countenance, till once more the teachings of his scientific education combined with the man's strong common-sense to bring calm matter-of-fact reasoning to bear. "Yes," he said, "it's time I went home to bed; and to-morrow I'll ask old Benson to come over and look after my patients while I go to the seaside and look after myself. I want bodily and mental rest. Here, old chap, wake up!" Moredock started to his feet and stared at the doctor, for he had been rudely awakened by a heavy slap on the back, while North in turn shrank back and stared at the sexton, as if astounded at what had taken place-- an act so foreign to his ordinary way. "You shouldn't do that, doctor," grumbled the old man, rubbing his shoulder in a testy way. "Works is a bit shaky, and you jar 'em up." "I--I beg your pardon, Moredock," stammered North confusedly. "Oh, it don't matter much, doctor, only I was in a beautiful sleep, and dreaming I'd gone to see my Dally as was living in a great house--quite the lady, and the man going to give me a glass o' something when you hit me on the back and woke me. Done?" "Yes. Help me," said North hastily. "The experiment is at an end." "Well, I arn't sorry, doctor. I arn't sorry for some things. Hey! but you have been busy clearing up. Quite done, then?" "Yes, quite done. We'll leave everything as it should be to-night." "Mornin', you mean, doctor. Well, all right." The ghastly task was quickly performed, the old man displaying a surprising activity as he replaced the ornamental coffin-lid and screws, after which the place seemed to have resumed its former state. "No one won't come to see whether the lead coffin's soddered down, eh, doctor?" chuckled the old man, after giving the heavy casket a final thrust with his shoulder to get it exactly in its place. "They don't do that only when the coroner's set to work, and people think there's been poisoning." "No, old chap," cried North, slapping the sexton on the shoulder in a jocular way. "Here, have a drop of brandy. After me; I'd rather drink first." Moredock stared again as the doctor produced a second flask from his pocket, poured some spirit gurgling out into the flattened silver cup, and tossed it off. "That's good brandy, old man. Stunning. Here you are."