A touch and a whisper from the old man warned Lovel that his best course was to remain quiet, and watch their motions from their present place of concealment.

Should anything appear to render retreat necessary, they had behind them the private stair-case and cavern, by means of which they could escape into the wood long before any danger of close pursuit.

They kept themselves, therefore, as still as possible, and observed with eager and anxious curiosity every accent and motion of these nocturnal wanderers.
After conversing together some time in whispers, the two figures advanced into the middle of the chancel; and a voice, which Lovel at once recognised, from its tone and dialect, to be that of Dousterswivel, pronounced in a louder but still a smothered tone, "Indeed, mine goot sir, dere cannot be one finer hour nor season for dis great purpose.
You shall see, mine goot sir, dat it is all one bibble-babble dat Mr.
Oldenbuck says, and dat he knows no more of what he speaks than one little child.

Mine soul! he expects to get as rich as one Jew for his poor dirty one hundred pounds, which I care no more about, by mine honest wort, than I care for an hundred stivers.

But to you, my most munificent and reverend patron, I will show all de secrets dat art can show--ay, de secret of de great Pymander." [Illustration: The Ruins of St.Ruth] "That other ane," whispered Edie, "maun be, according to a' likelihood, Sir Arthur Wardour--I ken naebody but himsell wad come here at this time at e'en wi' that German blackguard;--ane wad think he's bewitched him--he gars him e'en trow that chalk is cheese.