There was some muttering, and one of the men seemed to protest. "Stop!" he cried; "I'm not going to have a hand in a job like this. I'm bad enough, God knows, but no man shall say that I helped to violate a grave."
Danny shook from head to foot. He knew that voice. Just then the sea-swallow shot again overhead, uttering its low, mournful cry. At the same instant Danny thought he heard a half-stiffed moan not far from his side, and once more his ear caught that soft rustling sound. Quivering in every limb, he could not stir. He must stand and be silent. He clung to the stone wall with convulsive fingers.
The man with the crowbar laughed. "Dowse that now," he said, and laughed again.
"Och, the timid he is to be sure, and the religious, too, all at once."
Danny knew that voice also, and knew as well that to utter a word or sound at that moment might be as much as his life was worth. The men were raising the stone.
"Here, bear a hand," said one.
"Never," said the first speaker.
There was a low, grating laugh. One of the men leaped into the vault.
"Now, then, tail on here more hands. Let's have it, quick."
Then Danny saw that, lying on the ground, was something that he had not observed before. It was like a thick black roll some four feet long. Two of the men got hold of it to hand it to the man below.
"Come! lay down, d'ye hear?"
Danny's terror mastered him. He turned to run.
