rnay cast a look of hatred on the speaker, and then dashing down
the little hill, to the surprise of the servants, he dragged the pistols
from the sword-case, and was by the captain's side in a moment. But the
loud voices of the disputants had attracted Edward to the spot, and
there he stood on D'Effernay's return; and by his side a venerable old
man, who carried a large bunch of keys in his hand.

"In heaven's name, what has happened?" cried Wensleben.

"What are you about to do?" interposed the rector, in a tone of
authority, though his countenance was expressive of horror. "Are you
going to commit murder on this sacred spot, close to the precincts of
the church?"

"Murder! who speaks of murder?" cried D'Effernay. "Who can prove it?"
and as he spoke, the captain turned a fierce, penetrating look upon him,
beneath which he quailed.

"But, I repeat the question," Edward began once more, "what does all
this mean? I left you a short time ago in friendly conversation. I come
back and find you both armed--both violently agitated--and M.
D'Effernay, at least, speaking incoherently. What do you mean by
'proving it?'--to what do you allude?" At this moment, before any answer
could be made, a man came out of the house with a pick-ax and shovel on
his shoulder, and advancing toward the rector, said respectfully, "I am
quite ready, sir, if you have the key of the church-yard."

It was now the captain's turn to look anxious: "What are you going to
do, you surely don't intend--?" but, as he spoke, the rector interrupted
him.

"This gentleman is very desirous to see the place where his friend lies
buried."

"But these preparations, what do they mean?"

"I will tell you," said Edward, in a voice and tone that betrayed the
deepest emotion, "I have a holy duty to perform. I must cause the coffin
to be opened."

"How, what?" screamed D'Effernay, once again. "Never--I will never
permit such a thing."

"But, sir," the old man spoke, in a tone of calm decision, contrasting
wonderfully with the violence of him whom he addressed, "you have no
possible right to interfere. If this gentleman wishes it, and I accede
to the proposition, no one can prevent us from doing as we would."

"I tell you I will not suffer it," continued D'Effernay, with the same
frightful agitation. "Stir at your peril," he cried, turning sharply
round upon the grave-digger, and holding a pistol to his head; but the
captain pulled his arm away, to the relief