whose closed eyes would open directly
on his face if their lids were lifted.

Neddy feared no living man; so he was accustomed to boast, and with good
warrant. But was that man living? How came he up there? And what had he
to do with the queer-shaped hole that had all that gold in it? And the
thing he held in his own hand? Did that belong to the old man up there?
Had he flung it into the hole? Or (odd fancies began to assail big Neddy)
had he left it behind him when he got out? And would he, by chance, come
down to look for it?

Mike's hand, stretched out from his body towards his friend, now again
enjoined silence. He was at the foot of the dais; he was going up its
steps. He was no good in a scrap, but he had a nerve in some things! He
was up the steps now, and leaning forward; he was looking hard in the old
man's face; his own was close to it. He laid hold of one of the old man's
arms, it happened to be that left arm of Mr. Saffron's, lifted it, and
let it fall again; it fell back just in the position from which he had
lifted it. Then he straightened himself up, looking a trifle green
perhaps, but reassured, and called out to Mike, in a penetrating whisper,
"He's a stiff un all right!"

Yes! But then, what of the grave? Because it was a grave and nothing
else; there was no getting away from it. What of the grave, and what
about the scepter?

And what was Mike going to do now? He was tiptoeing to the edge of the
dais. He was moving towards one of the high candlesticks, the top of
which was a little below the level of his head, as he stood raised on the
dais beside the throne. He leant forward towards the candles; his intent
was obvious.

But big Neddy was not minded that he should carry it out, could not
suffer him to do it. With the light of the candles--well, at all events
you could see what was happening; you could see where you were, and where
anybody else was. But in the dark--left to torches which illuminated only
bits of the place, and which perhaps you mightn't switch on in time or
turn in the right direction; if you were left like that, anybody might be
anywhere, and on to you before you knew it!

"Let them lights alone, Mike!" he whispered hoarsely. "I'll smash your
'ead in if you put them lights out!"

Mike had conquered his own fit of nerves, not without some exercise of
will, and had not given any notice to his companion's, which was
considerably more acute; perhaps the constant use of that roomy