"Perhaps it might," replied the sexton; "but if I die, the knowledge of
the treasure shall die with me."

"He is deceiving me," thought Judith, beginning to rub his shoulder
afresh.

"I suspect you have played me false, you jade," cried Malmayns, writhing
with pain. "The stuff you have applied burns like caustic, and eats into
my flesh."

"It is doing its duty," replied his wife, calmly watching his agonies.
"You will soon be easier."

"Perhaps I shall--in death," groaned the sufferer. "I am parched with
thirst. Give me a glass of water."

"You shall have wine, Matthew, if you prefer it. I have a flask in my
pocket," she replied. "But what of the treasure--where is it?"

"Peace!" he cried. "I will baulk your avaricious hopes. You shall never
know where it is."

"I shall know as much as you do," she rejoined, in a tone of
incredulity. "I don't believe a word you tell me. You have found no
treasure."

"If this is the last word I shall ever utter, I _have_," he returned;
--"a mighty treasure. But you shall never possess it--never!--ah! ah!"

"Nor shall you have the wine," she replied; "there is water for you,"
she added, handing him a jug, which he drained with frantic eagerness.
"He is a dead man," she muttered.

"I am chilled to the heart," grasped the sexton, shivering from head to
foot, while chill damps gathered on his brow. "I have done wrong in
drinking the water, and you ought not to have given it me."

"You asked for it," she replied. "You should have had wine but for your
obstinacy. But I will save you yet, if you will tell me where to find
the treasure."

"Look for it in my grave," he returned, with a hideous grin.

Soon after this, he fell into a sort of stupor. His wife could now have
easily put a period to his existence, but she still hoped to wrest the
secret from him. She was assured, moreover, that his recovery was
hopeless. At the expiration of about two hours, he was aroused by the
excruciating anguish of his sore. He had again become delirious, and
raved as before about coffins, corpses, graves, and other loathsome
matters. Seeing, from his altered looks and the livid and gangrenous
appearance which the tumour had assumed, that his end was not far off,
Judith resolved not to lose a moment, but to try the effect of a sudden
surprise. Accordingly, she bent down her head, and shouted in his ear,
"What has become of your treasure, Matthew?"

The plan succeeded to a miracle. The dying man