This done, the old man passed his arm across his damp forehead. "Mind me having a pipe, doctor?" he said uneasily. "This is a bit extry like. I didn't know--" "No, no; you must not smoke here," said the doctor hastily. "One moment--into the middle of the table here." Moredock obeyed again, and the recumbent figure of the dead squire was placed exactly where the coffin had stood. "That will do," said North. "Now, Moredock, what do you say to a glass?" "Glass? Ay, doctor. Want it badly," cried the old man eagerly, as the doctor produced a silver flask, drew the cup from the bottom, and gave it to the sexton. Before doing so, however, North gave the flask a sharp shake, and the old man's eyes sparkled as his countenance assumed a suspicious look at this movement, so suggestive of medicine. "I say, what is it?" he said. "What is it? Cordial." "Brandy?" "No." "Look here, doctor," said the old sexton hoarsely; "no games." North paused. "Shall I tell you what you are thinking, Moredock?" he said. "Nay, you can't do that, clever as you are," cried the old man with a chuckle. "I can. You are thinking that I have poison here, ready to give you a dose, so that you may die out of the way, and never be able to expose me by betraying what you have seen." The old man's jaw dropped again, and his face grew more wrinkled and puckered up, if possible, as he scratched his head with one yellow claw. "Well, it were some'at o' that kind," he said, with a grim chuckle. "You old fool!" exclaimed the doctor; "don't I know that you could not expose me without exposing yourself? Do you think me blind?" "Nay, doctor, nay; you're a sharp one. You can see too much." "Have I not seen how dexterous you are at work of this kind? Do you think I cannot read what it all means? Moredock, I'll be bound to say that one way or another you have made yourself a rich man." "No, no, doctor; no, no!" cried the sexton. "A few pounds gathered together to keep me out of the workus some day when I grow old." "You think that I want to poison you, then, and to hide your body here?" "Nay, nay, doctor, I don't. You haven't got no need, have you? Give us a drop of the stuff." "Yes, we are wasting time," said North, pouring out a portion of the contents of his flask, and handing it to the old man, who took it, and, in spite of all said, smelt it suspiciously. "'Tarn't poison, is it, doctor?" he said piteously. "Yes, if you took enough of it. But that drop will not hurt you. There, don't be afraid. Toss it off. It is a liqueur." The old man hesitated for a moment, gazing wildly at the doctor, and then tossed it off at a draught. "There! Do you feel as if you are going to fall down dead, old man, and do you wonder which of these old niches I shall put you in?"