surprise but much solace, for I thought that if the
worst happened and I was discovered, I should find one friend with whom
I could plead for life.

'It is well the earth gave way', the sexton was saying, 'on a night when
we were here to find it. I was in the graveyard myself after midday, and
all was snug and tight then. 'Twould have been awkward enough to have the
hole stand open through the day, for any passer-by to light on.'

There were four or five men in the vault already, and I could hear more
coming down the passage, and guessed from their heavy footsteps that they
were carrying burdens. There was a sound, too, of dumping kegs down on
the ground, with a swish of liquor inside them, and then the noise of
casks being moved.

'I thought we should have a fall there ere long,' Ratsey went on, 'what
with this drought parching the ground, and the trampling at the edge when
we move out the side stone to get in, but there is no mischief done
beyond what can be easily made good. A gravestone or two and a few spades
of earth will make all sound again. Leave that to me.'

'Be careful what you do,' rejoined another man's voice that I did not
know, 'lest someone see you digging, and scent us out.'

'Make your mind easy,' Ratsey said; 'I have dug too often in this
graveyard for any to wonder if they see me with a spade.'

Then the conversation broke off, and there was little more talking, only
a noise of men going backwards and forwards, and of putting down of kegs
and the hollow gurgle of good liquor being poured from breakers into the
casks. By and by fumes of brandy began to fill the air, and climb to
where I lay, overcoming the mouldy smell of decayed wood and the dampness
of the green walls. It may have been that these fumes mounted to my head,
and gave me courage not my own, but so it was that I lost something of
the stifling fear that had gripped me, and could listen with more ease to
what was going forward. There was a pause in the carrying to and fro;
they were talking again now, and someone said--

'I was in Dorchester three days ago, and heard men say it will go hard
with the poor chaps who had the brush with the _Elector_ last summer.
Judge Barentyne comes on Assize next week, and that old fox Maskew has
driven down to Taunton to get at him before and coach him back; making
out to him that the Law's arm is weak in these parts against the
contraband, and must be strengthened by some wholesome hangings.' 'They