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." CHAPTER LXVII. THE REVELATIONS IN THE VAULTS. The object of Sir Richard Blunt was, of course, to make the cook hear
him, but no one else. With this aim he took a crown-piece from his
pocket and tapped with the edge of it upon the stone-work which at that
place protruded from the wall to the extent of nearly a foot. The stone
shelves upon the other side were let into the wall in that fashion. The
monotonous ringing sound of the coin against the stone was likely enough
to reverberate through the wall, and that the cook was rather a light
sleeper, or did not sleep at all, was soon sufficiently manifest, for a
voice, which the magistrate recognised as his, cried from the other
side--

"Who is there? If a friend, speak quickly, for God knows I have need of
such. If an enemy, your utmost malice cannot make my situation worse
than it is." Sir Richard placed his mouth close to a crevice, and said--

"A friend, and the same who has spoken to you before." "Ah! I know that voice. Do you bring me freedom?" "Soon. But I have much to ask of you."