Mrs.Transom was already at her shoulder, and the eyes of the two women rested on the sorry spectacle before them.
Candle in hand, the prodigal was kneeling by the dead man's bed.

He was not praying, however; but had his head well buried in the oaken chest, among the papers of which he was cautiously prying.
The faint squeal that broke from his wife's lips sufficed to startle him.

He dropped the lid with a crash, turned sharply round, and scrambled to his feet.

His look embraced the two women in one brief flicker, and then rested on the blazing eyes of 'Lizabeth.
"You mean hound!" said she, very slowly.
He winced uneasily, and began to bluster: "Curse you! What do you mean by sneaking upon a man like this ?" "A man!" echoed 'Lizabeth.

"Man, then, if you will--couldn't you wait till your father was cold, but must needs be groping under his pillow for the key of that chest?
You woman, there--you wife of this man--I'm main grieved you should ha' seen this.