om the garden," said Henry. "Tools for the
exhumation, you mean?"

"Yes; pickaxe, mattocks, and a crowbar; a lantern, and so forth," said
the doctor. "You see I am at home in this; the fact is, I have had more
than one affair of this kind on my hands before now, and whilst a
student I have had more than one adventure of a strange character."

"I dare say, doctor," said Charles Holland, "you have some sad pranks to
answer for; you don't think of it then, only when you find them
accumulated in a heap, so that you shall not be able to escape them;
because they come over your senses when you sleep at night."

"No, no," said Chillingworth; "you are mistaken in that. I have long
since settled all my accounts of that nature; besides, I never took a
dead body out of a grave but in the name of science, and never far my
own profit, seeing I never sold one in my life, or got anything by it."

"That is not the fact," said Henry; "you know, doctor, you improved your
own talents and knowledge."

"Yes, yes; I did."

"Well, but you profited by such improvements?"

"Well, granted, I did. How much more did the public not benefit then,"
said the doctor, with a smile.

"Ah, well, we won't argue the question," said Charles; "only it strikes
me that the doctor could never have been a doctor if he had not
determined upon following a profession."

"There may be a little truth in that," said Chillingworth; "but now we
had better quit the house, and make the best of our way to the spot
where the unfortunate man lies buried in his unhallowed grave."

"Come with me into the garden," said Henry Bannerworth; "we shall there
be able to suit ourselves to what is required. I have a couple of
lanterns."

"One is enough," said Chillingworth; "we had better not burden ourselves
more than we are obliged to do; and we shall find enough to do with the
tools."

"Yes, they are not light; and the distance is by far too great to make
walking agreeable and easy; the wind blows strong, and the rain appears
to be coming up afresh, and, by the time we have done, we shall find the
ground will become slippy, and bad for walking."

"Can we have a conveyance?"

"No, no," said the doctor; "we could, but we must trouble the turnpike
man; besides, there is a shorter way across some fields, which will be
better and safer."

"Well, well," said Charles Holland; "I do not mind which way it is, as
long as you are satisfied yourselves. The horse and cart would