"As it happens, I can tell you the latest thing about him," he said. "I was to work two days agone 'pon the edge of our garden, doing nought in particular because the frost was got in the ground and you couldn't put a spade in. But I was busy as a bee according to my wont--tying up pea-sticks I think 'twas, or setting a rat-trap, or some such thing--when who should pass down t'other side of the hedge but Mark Baskerville? Us fell into talk about the play, and I took him down to my house to show him where my grand-darter had stuck the mask what made me into the French Eagle. Then I said there were changes in the air, and he said so too. I remarked as Rupert Baskerville had left Cadworthy and gone to work at the Lee Moor china clay, and he said 'Yes; and I be going too.' 'Never!' I said. 'What'll Mr. Humphrey do without you?' But he didn't know or care. 'Who ever will ring your bell when you're gone?' I asked him, and----" Thomas Gollop again interrupted. "'Tis a terrible queer thing you should name the bell, Joe," he said, "for I'll take my oath somebody's ringing it now!" "Ringing the bell! What be talking of?" asked Heathman. "Why, 'tis hard on ten o'clock." "Yet I'm right." At this moment Saul Luscombe, who had set out a minute sooner, returned. "Who's ago?" he asked. "The bell's tolling." They crowded to the door, stood under the clear stillness of night, and heard the bell. At intervals of a minute the deep, sonorous note throbbed from aloft where the church tower rose against the stars. "There's nobody sick to death that I know about," said Nathan. "'Twill be Mark ringing, no doubt. None touches tenor bell but him." Mr. Luscombe remounted his pony. "Cold bites shrewd after your bar, Nathan. Good night, souls. Us shall hear who 'tis to-morrow." The bell tolled thrice more; then it stopped. "Bide a minute and I'll come back," said Mr. Gollop. "I can't sleep this night without knowing who 'tis. A very terrible sudden seizure, for certain. Eliza may know." He crossed the road and entered his own house, which stood against the churchyard wall. They waited and he returned in a minute. "She knows nought," he said. "Mark dropped in a little bit ago and axed for the key. 'What do 'e want in belfry now, Mr. Baskerville?' she axed him. 'Passing bell,' he said; and Eliza was all agog, of course, for 'twas the first she'd heard of it. 'What's the name?' she said; but he answered nought and went down the steps and away. A minute after the bell began." "'Tis over now, anyway. I'll step across and meet Mark," said Mr. Baskerville. One or two others accompanied him; but there was no sign of the ringer. Then, led by Gollop, they entered the silent church and shouted. "Where be you, Mark Baskerville, and who's dead?" cried Gollop. In the belfry profound silence reigned, and the ropes hanging from their places above, touched the men as they groped in the darkness.