The String of Pearls (1850), p. 237

poor people as can be said anything to and done anything to, and they may snap themselves?"
"Well, well," added Mr. Vickley. "I am quite satisfied. Of course, if
there's anything disagreeable to be done in a church, and it can be done among the free seats, it's all the better; and indeed, if the smell in St. Dunstan's could have been kept away from the respectable part of the congregation, I don't know that it would have mattered much."
"Convulsions!" cried the beadle. "It wouldn't have mattered at all, gentlemen. But only think o' the bishop smelling it. Upon my life, gentlemen, I did think, when I saw the Right Rev. Father in God's nose a looking up and down, like a cat when she smells a bunch o' lights, and knowed as it was all owing to the smell in the church, I did think as I could have gone down through the floor, cocked hat and all, that ! did. Conwulsions—that was a moment!"
"It was," said the churchwarden.
"Mercy—mercy," said Mr. Vickley.
The beadle was so affected at the remembrance of what, had appened at the confirmation, that he was forced to blow his nose with an energy that produced a trumpet-like sound in the empty church, and echoed again from nave to gallery. Sir Richard Blunt had let all the discourse go on without paying the
least attention to it. He was quietly waiting for the foul vapours that arose from the vaults beneath the church to dissipate a little before he ventured upon exploring them. Now, however, he advanced and spoke.
"Gentlemen, I hope I shall be able to rid St. Dunstan's of the stench which for a long time has given it so unenviable a reputation.''
"If you can do that," said the churchwarden, "you will delight the whole
parish. It has been a puzzle to us all where the stench could come from."
"Where is the puzzle now?" said Sir Richard Blunt, as he pointed to the
opening in the floor of the church, from whence issued like a steamy vapour such horrible exhalations."
"Why, certainly it must come from the vaults?"
"But," said the overseer, " the parish books show that there has not been any one buried in any of the vaults directly beneath the church for thirty years."
"Then," said the beadle, "it's a very wrong thing of respectable parishioners—for, of course, them as has waults is respectable—to keep quiet for thirty years and then begin stinking like blazes. It's uncommon wrong—conwulsions!"
Sir Richard Blunt took a paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
"From this plan," he said, "that I have procured of the vaults of St.
Dunstan's, it appears that the stone we have raised, and which was numbered thirty, discloses a stone staircase communicating with two passages, from which all the vaults can be reached. I propose searching them; and now, gentlemen, and you, Mr. Beadle, listen to me."
They all three looked at him with surprise as he took another letter from his pocket.
"Here," he said, are a few words from the Secretary of State. "Pray read
them, Mr. Vickley."
The overseer read as follows—
"The Secretary of State presents his compliments to Sir Richard Blunt, and begs to say that as regards the affair at St. Dunstan's, Sir Richard is to consider himself armed with any extraordinary powers he may consider necessary."
"Now, gentlemen," added Sir Richard Blunt, "if you will descend with me into the vaults, all I require of you is the most profound secrecy with regard to what you may see there. Do you fully understand?"
"Yes," stammered Mr. Vickley, "but I rather think I
The overseer read as follows—I would as soon not go."
"Then, sir, be silent regarding the going of others. Will you go, sir?" to the churchwarden.
"Why yes, I
The overseer read as follows—I think I ought."
"I shall be obliged to go, I may feel the want of a witness. We will take you with us, Mr. Beadle, of course."