Quickly his mind formed
another plan. He turned, stole softly out of the parlor, and along the
passage towards the front door of the cottage.
After Neddy had dropped Mr. Saffron's scepter into Captain Duggle's grave
(had he known that it was Captain Duggle's, and not been a prey to the
ridiculous but haunting fancy that it had been destined for, or even--oh,
these errant fancies--already occupied by, Mr. Saffron himself, Neddy
would have been less agitated) Mike dealt with him roundly. In bitter
hissing whispers, and in language suited thereto, he pointed out the
folly of vain superstitions, of childish fears and sick imaginings which
interfered with business and threatened its success. His eloquent
reasoning, combined with a lively desire to get out of the place as soon
as possible, so far wrought on Neddy that he produced the sack which he
had brought with him, and held its mouth open, though with trembling
hands, while Mike scraped up handful after handful of gold coins and
poured them into it. They were busily engaged on their joint task as
Beaumaroy stole along the passage and, reaching the front door, again
stood listening.
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