is
pick-axe into something soft, and upon pulling it up, he found it was
the body.

A dreadful odour now arose from the spot, and they were at no loss to
tell where the body lay. The pick-axe had stuck into the deceased's ribs
and clothing, and thus lifted it out of its place.

"Here it is," said the doctor; "but I needn't tell you that; the
charnel-house smell is enough to convince you of the fact of where it
is."

"I think so; just show a light upon the subject, doctor, and then we can
see what we are about--do you mind, doctor--you have the management of
the lantern, you know?"

"Yes, yes," said Chillingworth; "I see you have it--don't be in a hurry,
but do things deliberately and coolly whatever you do--you will not be
so liable to make mistakes, or to leave anything undone."

"There will be nothing of any use to you here, doctor, in the way of
dissection, for the flesh is one mass of decay. What a horrible sight,
to be sure!"

"It is; but hasten the search."

"Well, I must; though, to confess the truth, I'd sooner handle anything
than this."

"It is not the most pleasant thing in the world, for there is no knowing
what may be the result--what creeping thing has made a home of it."

"Don't mention anything about it."

Henry and Charles Holland now began to search the pockets of the clothes
of the dead body, in one of which was something hard, that felt like a
parcel.

"What have you got there?" said Chillingworth, as he held his lantern up
so that the light fell upon the ghastly object that they were handling.

"I think it is the prize," said Charles Holland; "but we have not got it
out yet, though I dare say it won't be long first, if this wind will but
hold good for about five minutes, and keep the stench down."

They now tore open the packet and pulled out the papers, which appeared
to have been secreted upon his person.

"Be sure there are none on any other part of the body," said
Chillingworth, "because what you do now, you had better do well, and
leave nothing to after thought, because it is frequently impracticable."

"The advice is good," said Henry, who made a second search, but found
nothing.

"We had better re-bury him," said the doctor; "it had better be done
cleanly. Well, it is a sad hole for a last resting-place, and yet I do
not know that it matters--it is all a matter of taste--the fashion of
the class, or the particular custom of the country."

There was but little to be said