hall I fetch the
police?"

Sir John for answer set his candle down upon the top of one of the
chests and put it out with the bar as he whispered to me in turn: "Wait
a few moments." And then--"Look!" He pointed with the iron bar; and as
I stared hard at the faint light shining up from below the edge of the
stone, I could see just the tips of some one's fingers come through and
sweep the sawdust away to right and left. Then they came through a
little more, and were drawn back, while directly after came the low
whispering again, and the hand now was thrust right through as far as
the wrist.

"Yes," said Sir John then, as he grasped my arm--"the police!" Just
then he uttered a gasp, and I turned to look at him; but we were in the
dark, and I could not see his face, but he gripped my arm more tightly,
and I looked once more toward the broad ray, to see the hand resting now
full in the light, and I turned cold with horror, for there was
something shining quite brightly, and I could see that it was a signet
ring, and what was more, the old ring Mr Barclay used to wear--the one
he had worn since he was quite a stripling, and beyond which the joint
had grown so big that he could never get the jewel off.

I should have bent down there, staring at that ring for long enough,
fascinated, as you may say, only all at once I felt my arm dragged, and
I was pushed softly into the outer cellar, and from there into the
passage beyond, Sir John closing and locking the door softly, before
tottering into the pantry and sinking into a chair, uttering a low moan.

"Oh, don't take on, sir," I whispered; but he turned upon me roughly.

"Silence, man!" he panted, "and give me time to think;" and then I heard
him breathe softly, in a voice so full of agony that it was terrible to
hear: "Oh, my son!--my son!"

"No, no, sir," I said--for I couldn't bear it. "He wouldn't; there's
some mistake."

"Mistake? Then you saw it too, Burdon? No; there is no mistake."

I couldn't speak, for I remembered about the keys, and something seemed
to come up in my throat and choke me, for it seemed so terrible for my
young master to have done this thing.

"What are you going to do, sir?" I said at last, and it was me now who
gripped his arm.

"Do?" he said bitterly. "All that is a heritage: mine to hold in trust
for my son--his after my death to hold in trust for the generations to
come. Burdon, it is an incubus--a curse; but I have my duty to d