"this body might have lain there undiscovered for
years. It was a cunning mind which thought of using an old grave as a
receptacle for a fresh body."

We strolled backwards and forwards on the grass-grown pathway, and I
kept the old gentleman as far as I could from the open grave. The
voice of the doctor giving directions and the muffled answers of the
men working in the excavation came to us occasionally.

Presently, as we turned in one of our walks, I saw the labourers had
come out of the grave and were hauling at something, assisted by the
two policemen.

As I checked the Don in our walk, and looked on, a white mass was
raised from the opening and laid by the doctor's direction on an
adjacent flat tomb.

I shuddered as I saw the whiteness of it in the moonlight, and my
thoughts reverted to the blood-stained figure of the old lady which I
had last seen lying on her bed in the house in Monmouth Street.

The workmen went down into the grave again, and Inspector Bull came
towards us.

"Will you kindly step over this way for a few moments, Mr. Anstruther?"
he asked. "I want to see if you can recognise the body which has been
brought to the surface."

I let go the arm of Don Juan which I had been holding, and with a
sickening feeling at my heart followed Inspector Bull. He led me
towards the object lying on the old moss-grown tomb, and I could not
summon the words to ask him who it was. There was a strong
presentiment in my mind that I should look upon the dead face of the
old lady at whose wish I had crossed the Atlantic.

We came to the body, over which a piece of sacking had been thrown, and
this the inspector drew back, while one of the policemen held a lantern.

In its yellow light mingled with the clear moonbeams, I looked upon the
face, and my heart gave a great leap of thankfulness. The face was
perfectly fresh and recognisable. It was not the face of the old lady
which I had feared to see, but that of a man with a coal-black beard,
which seemed very familiar to me.

I had scarcely looked upon it when a cry came from the grave where the
men were working, and they threw up a white bundle, evidently a bundle
of linen.

This the inspector quickly opened, and displayed a heap of bedclothing
and a pillow all stained with blood.

"Is that all?" asked the inspector, as the men jumped out of the hole.

"Yes, marster," the man replied, knocking the clay off his boots,
"there's naught there now but th