The second was big
Neddy's declaration that, in his opinion, the sack now held about as
much as he could carry. He raised it from the floor in his two hands.
"Must weight a 'undred pound or more!" he reckoned. That meant a lot of
money, a fat lot of money. His terrors had begun to wear off, since
nothing of a supernatural or even creepy order had actually happened. He
had, at last, even agreed to the candles being put out. Still he would
be glad to be off. "Enough's as good as a feast, as the sayin' goes,
Mike," he chuckled.
Mike had fitted a new battery into his torch. It shone brightly on Neddy
and on the sack, whose mouth Neddy was now tying up, "I might fill my
pockets too," he suggested, eyeing the very respectable amount of
sovereigns which still remained in Captain Duggle's tomb.
"Don't do it, old lad," Neddy advised. "If we 'ave to get out, or
anything of that kind, you don't want to jingle as if you was a glass
chandelier, do you?"
Mike admitted the cogency of the objection, and they agreed to be off.
Mike started for the window. "I'll just pick up the Sergeant," he said,
"and signal you 'All clear.
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