g who
he was, we passed through into the tangled, weedy place where the
lights of lanterns were shining weirdly, and we could see men in their
shirt-sleeves working with shovel and pick, while others were clearing
away the dead rank herbage of autumn.

In the uncertain light I saw that a long trench some four feet in
depth had been dug, and into this the men were flinging the soil they
carefully removed in their progress in a line backwards.

Beneath a tree, close to where was an open trench--the one prepared
for the reception of my body--lay something covered with a black
cloth. From beneath there stuck out a hideous object--a man's muddy
patent-leather shoe!

Even while I stood amid that weird, never-to-be-forgotten scene, one
of the excavators gave an ejaculation of surprise, and a lantern,
quickly brought, revealed a human arm in a dark coat-sleeve embedded
in the soil.

With a will, half-a-dozen eager hands were at work, and soon a third
body--that of a tall, grey-haired man, whose face, alas! was awful to
gaze upon--was quickly exhumed.

I could not bear to witness more, and left, gratified to know that the
two fiends were already safely confined in a French prison.

Justice would, no doubt, be done, and they would meet with their
well-merited punishment.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

FURTHER REVELATIONS

If you are a constant reader of the newspapers, as probably you are,
you will no doubt recollect the great sensation caused next day on the
publication of the news of the gruesome find in that, one of the most
aristocratic thoroughfares of Bayswater.

The metropolitan police were very reticent regarding the affair, but
many of the papers published photographs of the scene of the
exhumations, the exterior of the long-closed house, and photographs of
the various police officials. That of Guertin, however, was not
included. The famous investigator of crime had no wish for the picture
of his face, with its eyes beaming benignly through his gold glasses,
to be disseminated broadcast.

The police refused to make any statement; hence the wildest
conjectures were afloat concerning the series of tragedies which must
have taken place within that dark house, with its secluded, tangled
garden.

As the days went by, the public excitement did not abate, for yet more
remains were found--the body of a young, fair-haired man who had been
identified as Mr. Cyril Wilson, a member of the Travellers' Club, who
had b