urbed, perhaps, for a whole century.

I glanced at the stone which had been removed, thinking, perhaps, that
it might give me a clue to the date of the grave, but, alas, time and
the weather had rotted the soft stone and it had come off in layers.
The face of the stone was a blank, and the names of those who lay
beneath lost for ever.

The moon had risen and the men had dug down perhaps four feet, but
nothing had come to light. Then, as they were proceeding after a brief
halt, one of them gave a cry.

"There's something here, marster!" he cried excitedly.

At the sound of his voice all the lanterns were brought to the edge of
the grave, and we looked down into the hole, which the bright moonbeams
did not reach. It was illuminated solely by the dull yellow light of
one candle-lantern by which the men worked. The two diggers had
withdrawn themselves, half scared, to the sides of the hole, and were
looking down fearsomely at _something_ at their feet. It appeared that
they were afraid of treading upon this something; at first I could not
tell what they were looking at, but presently my eyes became accustomed
to the gloom. It was a dark patch protruding from the ground.

"What is it?" I asked the men, as we all hung over the edge of the
brickwork.

The nearest man turned a white face up to mine and answered me.

"It's a human 'ead, sir," he said.

I think we all drew back again as he said this, and the doctor stepped
forward with a flask in his hand.

"If you will take my advice, gentlemen," he said, addressing Don Juan
and me, "you will have a nip of this old brandy before we go any
further in this matter. Then I think you had better let me give the
instructions to these workmen, Mr. Inspector, or they may do some
damage unintentionally."

Don Juan touched me on the arm. His hand trembled fearfully.

"Let us come away and walk a little," he said; "the strain of this
affair is too much for me."

I took his arm and walked away with him towards the gate, where now
quite a little crowd had assembled, attracted by the lanterns round the
grave.

Knowing the Don's fondness for smoking and its soothing effect upon
him, I handed him my cigar case, and he took a cigar and lit it. There
seemed to be something in the aroma of the fine Havannahs as I lit one,
too, that dispelled the lurking mouldiness of the old burial ground.

"But for those children playing around that tomb this afternoon,"
remarked d'Alta,