Sir Richard shaded with his hand the little light that he carried as he walked solemnly across the nave towards the chancel, where the vestry room was situated. He was followed closely by the whole party, and the audible breathing of the Lord Mayor sufficiently proclaimed the uneasy state of his lordship's nerves.
"How strange it is," said the secretary, "that men will pile up stones and timber until they make something to enter, which then terrifies their weak natures, and they become the slaves of the very materials that they have made to enclose and roof in a certain space upon which otherwise they would stand unmoved."
"It is so," said Donkin.
"Why the fact is, I suppose," said Sir Richard Blunt, "that it is what is called original sin that sticks to us, and so--
'Conscience doth make cowards of us all!'
whether we are personally or not obnoxious to the pangs of the still small voice."
"Upon my word, Sir Richard," said the secretary, "you are quite a free-thinker--indeed you are."
Suddenly the whole party paused, for something resembling a moan was heard from among the pews in the centre of the church, and every one was anxious to listen for a repetition of the sound.
"Did you hear it?" whispered the secretary.
"In faith, I did," said Mr. Donkin.
"And I," said Sir Richard Blunt.
"And we," said the Lord Mayor, in defiance of grammar. "I--I--feel rather unwell, gentlemen, do you know."
"Hush! let us listen," said the secretary.
They all stood profoundly still for a few minutes, and then, just as they were one and all beginning to think that after all it must be a mere thing of fancy, the same mournful moan came once more upon their ears.
"There can be no mistake," said Sir Richard. "We all hear that; is it not so, gentlemen?"
"Yes--yes!" said everybody.
"I'm getting worser," said the Lord Mayor.
"This mystery must be cleared up," said the secretary. "Is it a trick upon us, do you think, Sir Richard?"
"No, my lord, certainly not."
"Then we cannot go on until this is cleared up. You are armed, of course, Sir Richard?"
"Yes, my lord."
Sir Richard Blunt took from his pocket a double-barrelled pistol. There was now a sort of pause, as though each of those present expected the others to say or to do something which should have the effect of discovering what the singular noise portended. Of course, Sir Richard Blunt felt that in such an emergency he would be the man naturally looked to.
"It is absolutely necessary," he said, "that we should find out what this means before proceeding farther."
"Yes, yes," said the Lord Mayor, "no doubt of it; and in the meantime I'll run to the Mansion House and get some assistance, gentlemen."
"Oh, no, my lord--oh, no," said the secretary to the chief magistrate of the city. "We cannot think of sparing you."
"But--but--"
"Certainly not," said Sir Richard Blunt, who was keenly alive to the tone of irony in which the secretary spoke. "Certainly not; and as I fancy the sound which has excited our curiosity comes from about the centre of the pews, you and I, my lord, will go and find out who it is. Come, if you please, at once."
"I--I--" stammered the Lord Mayor, "I really--humph! If I felt quite well, do you know, Sir Richard, I should not hesitate a moment."
"Pho! pho!" said Sir Richard, taking his arm, and leading him unwillingly forward. "Remember that the eyes of those are upon you whose opinions are to you of importance."
With a groan the unfortunate Lord Mayor, who from the first had shrunk from the enterprise altogether, being fearful that it might possibly involve dangerous consequences, allowed himself to be dragged by Sir Richard Blunt in the direction of the pews.
"If you have a pistol," said the magistrate, "you had better keep it in your hand ready for service."
"Lord bless you," said the Lord Mayor, in a nervous whisper, "I never fired off a pistol in all my life."
"Is that possible?"
"I don't know about being possible, but it's true."
"Well, you do surprise me."
"So--so you see, Sir Richard," added his temporary lordship, suddenly popping into the churchwarden's pew, which they had just reached--"so I'll stay here and keep an eye upon you."
Sir Richard Blunt was not at all sorry to get rid of such a companion as the Lord Mayor, so with a cough, he left him in the pew, and went forward alone, determined to find out what it was that made the extraordinary noise. As he went forward, towards the spot from whence it had come, he heard it once again, and in such close proximity to him, that albeit, unaccustomed to allow anything to affect his nerves, he started back a pace. Shading, then, the little bit of wax candle that he had in his hand, he looked steadily in the direction of the low moaning sound. In an instant he found a solution of the mystery. A couple of pigeons stood upon the hand rail of one of the pews, and it was the peculiar sound made by these birds, that, by the aid of echo in the silent empty church, had seemed to be of a very different character from its ordinary one.
"And from such simple causes," said Sir Richard, "arise all the well-authenticated stories of superstition which fancy and cowardice give credence to."
He looked up, and saw that in the wish to ventilate the church, the windows had been liberally opened, which had afforded the means of ingress to the pigeons, who, no doubt, would have slumbered soundly enough until morning, if not disturbed by the arrival of the party at the church. As Sir Richard Blunt retraced his steps, he passed the pew where the Lord Mayor was; and willing to punish that functionary for his cowardice, he said, in a well-affected voice of alarm--
"Gracious Heaven! what will become of us?"
With a groan, the Lord Mayor flopped down to the floor of the pew, and there he lay, crouching under one of the seats in such an agony of terror, that Sir Richard felt certain he and the others would be able to transact all the business they came about, before he would venture to move from that place of concealment. The magistrate speedily informed the rest of the party what was the cause of the alarm, and likewise hinted the position of the Lord Mayor, upon which the secretary said--
"Let him be. Of course, as a matter of courtesy, I was obliged to write to him upon the subject; but we are as well, and perhaps better without him."
"I am of the same opinion," said Sir Richard.
They now went at once to the vestry, and two good lanterns were then procured, and lit. The magistrate at once led the way to the stone that had been raised by the workmen, in the floor of the church, and which had never been effectually fastened down again. In a corner, where no one was likely to look, Sir Richard placed his hand for a crow-bar which he knew to be there, and, having found it, he quickly raised the stone on one side. The other gentlemen lent their assistance, and it was turned fairly over, having exposed the steps that led down to the vaults of old St. Dunstan's church.
"Let us descend at once," said the secretary, who, to tell the truth, in the whole affair, showed no lack of personal courage.
"Allow me to precede you, gentlemen," said Sir Richard Blunt; "and you, Mr. Villimay, will, perhaps, bring up the rear."
"Yes, oh, yes," said the churchwarden, with some degree of nervousness, but he was quite a hero compared to the Lord Mayor.
Sir Richard handed one of the lanterns, then, to Mr. Villimay, and took the other himself. Without another moment's delay, then, he began the descent. They could all, as they went, feel conscious that there was certainly a most unearthly smell in the vaults--a smell which, considering the number of years that had elapsed since any interments had taken place in them, was perfectly unaccountable. As they proceeded, this stench became more and more sickening, and the secretary said, as he held a handkerchief to his mouth and nose--
"The Bishop of London spoke to me of this, but I really thought he was exaggerating."
"It would be difficult to do that," said Sir Richard. "It is as bad almost as it can very well be, and the measures taken for the purpose of ventilation, have not as yet had a very great effect upon it."
"I should say not."
With tolerable speed the magistrate led the party on through a vast number of vaults, and through several narrow and rather tortuous passages, after which he came to an iron door. It was locked, but placing the lantern for a few moments upon the floor, he soon succeeded in opening it with a skeleton key. The moment he had done so, the secretary exclaimed--
"Hey day! This is something different."
"In what respect, my lord?"
"Why, if my senses don't deceive me, the horrible charnel-house smell, which we have been enduring for some time past, has given way to one much more grateful."
"What is it like, my lord?"
"Well, I should say some delicious cooking was going on."
"You are right. There is cooking going on. We are not very far from Mrs. Lovett's pie manufactory."
"Indeed!"
"Yes; and the smell, or rather I ought to say the odour of which the air is full, comes from the bakehouse."
The secretary gave a perceptible shudder, and Mr. Villimay uttered a groan. The gentleman who was with the secretary was about to say something, but the magistrate, in a low voice, interrupted him, saying--
"Pardon me, but now we are in close proximity to the place of our destination, I would recommend the profoundest caution and silence."
"Certainly--certainly. We will only be silent spectators."
"It is better, I think," added Sir Richard Blunt, "to allow me to carry on the whole of the conversation that is to ensue; and at the same time, any of you gentlemen can suggest to me a question to ask, and I will at once put it to the man we come to speak to."
"That will do, Sir Richard, that will do."
The magistrate now hurried on as though those savoury steams that scented the air from the bakehouse of Mrs. Lovett's pies were to him more disagreeable than the horrible smell in the vaults that made everybody shake again. In a few minutes he arrived at a room, for it could not be called a vault. It had a floor of rough stone flags, which seemed as though they had originally belonged to some of the vaults, and had been pulled up and carried to this place to make a rude flooring. There was nothing very remarkable about the walls of this place, save at one part, and there there was evidently a door, across which was placed a heavy iron bar.
"It is through there," said Sir Richard.
"But--but you do not intend to open it?"
"Certainly not. There is a small crevice through which there will be no difficulty in maintaining a conversation with the imprisoned cook, if I can only make him hear me from this spot."
