He proceeded to examine the room in which he appeared to be a prisoner. The numerous beds seemed to indicate that he really was in a species of barrack, or lodging-house of some kind; and this circumstance, coupled with the fact that the porter who had admitted him was evidently a member of the Egyptian or Bohemian race, reassured him—for he felt convinced that he was actually in the abode of gipsies. So far the stranger, who had been the means of his visit to that strange tenement, had not deceived him. But how was he to satisfy himself in regard to the Resurrection Man? He tried the door—it was indeed fastened; he examined the windows—they were not barred, but were of a dangerous height from the back-yard on which they looked. Markham paced the room uncertain how to act. Suddenly his reverie was interrupted by the tread of many steps upon the stairs; and then a species of subdued bustle took place throughout the house. The whispering of voices—the removal of heavy objects overhead—the running of persons hither and thither—and the opening and shutting of doors, announced that some extraordinary movement was taking place. Richard listened with breathless anxiety. At length the sounds of several heavy steps, in the landing outside his door, met his ears; and this noise was at short intervals varied by deep groans. The groans seemed to accompany the tread of the heavy steps just mentioned. These steps and those expressions of human suffering grew fainter and fainter, as they descended the stairs, until at length they were no longer audible. Nevertheless Markham kept his ear fixed to the key-hole of his chamber-door. Silence now once more reigned throughout the house; but in a few minutes the noise and bustle seemed to have been transferred to the yard. Richard hurried to the window; but the moon had gone down and the darkness without was intense. He concealed the light in a corner of the room, and then gently raised one of the windows. But he could distinguish nothing with his eyes; and the sounds that met his ears were those of footsteps bustling to and fro. At length these ceased; a door was closed at the end of the yard; and almost immediately afterwards Richard heard, in the same direction, the rumbling noise of a vehicle moving heavily away. When that din had ceased, the most profound tranquillity prevailed not only in the home but also in its neighbourhood. That silence was interrupted only for a few moments by the sonorous bell of St. Giles's Church, proclaiming the hour of three. "Time wears on," said Markham impatiently; "and no opportunity of satisfying myself upon the one point seems to present itself. To attempt to seek repose is impossible; to pass the dull hours in suspense like this is intolerable!" Then he seated himself on one of the beds, and considered what course he should pursue. Slowly—slowly passed the time; and though he revolved in his mind many plans, he could fix upon none.