The man was on his feet in an instant, fearing an ambush; but
astonishment opened his mouth.
"Corpo di Bacco!" he cried, and the exclamation rang in a note of
something like terror against the cliffs and upon the ear of his
companion. Yet no swift retribution stayed his steps; no shot rang
out to arrest his progress. He leaped away, dodging and bounding
like a deer to escape the expected bullet and then disappeared
behind the boulder. But neither rascal delayed a moment. Their
mingled steps instantly rang out; then the clatter faded swiftly
upon the night and silence returned.
For ten minutes nothing happened. Next, out of a lair not fifteen
yards from the distorted dummy, rose a figure that shone white as
snow under the moon. Mark Brendon approached the snare that he
himself had set, shook the grass out of his coat, lifted his hat
from the ball of leaves it covered, and presently drew on his
knickerbockers, having emptied them of their stuffing. He was cold
and calm. He had learned more than he expected to learn; for that
startled exclamation left no doubt at all concerning one of the
grave-diggers.
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