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i;. BY THOMAS COBB, 1TTTHOR O? "THE HOUSE BY THE COMMON," "WEDDERBURN'S WILL," THE WEST- LAKES," ETC;, ETC. CHAPTER XVI.—THE DEATH OF ANN. 1 LIGHT was still ing in the hall of The Rookery as Owen sup- ported Arnold towards it. The bell sounded loud amidst the silence of the night, and a few minutes elapsed before Lizzie opened the door. She was fully dressed, jnda few yards behind her Florence stood, her eyes red from weeping. "I made sure you had the latch-key," she exclaimed. Then recognising Owen, and re- membering the purpose of her cousin's ex- cursion, the blood flew to her face. "So I have, but mv arm is broken," fie answered. "For God's sake, send for Viret to set it, and get me out of pain." The wounded limb lay in a sling roughly tied by Owen, whilst Arnold, looking faint and pale, clasped it with his left hand. They led him into the dining-room, and lizzie lighted a lamp. "Tell me what I,can do cried Florence, full of sympathy for his obvious pain, and of wonder at the cause of his disaster. "Nothing, only send for Viret. While they're gone you can get some scissors and cut my coat off." "I will fetch Dr. Viret," said Owen, and next minute he was once more braving the storm, nor slackened his pace until his hand was upon the bell at The Laurels. Tiger barked continuously until, after a few minutes' interval, Dr. Viret himself came down, fully dressed, in the expectation of a summons to Ann's dethbed. "Mr. Fairford!" he ejaculated. Perhaps Owen was the last man he would have named in all the world. "I come from Miss Derwent. Her cousin has broken his arm." Dr. Viret strode towards the laboratory. Dr. Viret strode towards the laboratory. "Come this way, Mr. Fairford. Broken his arm, has he?" Owen entered after him, and when the lamp was lighted, glanced round the room with its four-footed tenants. I "I know I must have a splint somewhere," said Dr. Viret, opening one drawer after s another. "I had a couple down when ray coachman fractured his arm three years ago. Ah, here we are." He took the splint, a coil of lint, and some strapping. "I may j- as well take some chloroform," he added, as an afterthought. Then the two men left the house, followed by Tiger; and as they walked quickly to- wards'the lane, Dr. Viret asked how the ac- cident happened. "Though me, to some entent," Owen answered "I had been for a stroll-" "H'm a rough night for a, stroll, Mr. Fairford." "And," Owen continued, not heeding the remark, "was re-entering my house about one o'clock, on the point of closing the door, when someone threiw his whole weight against it. It flew open, and I saw JDerwent. He stil persisted in forcing his way in, and naturally I resented such conduct. In fact, I admit that I lost my head, sent in one with my right, and unfortunately he fell and broke his arm. It is only a simple fracture." "Now perhaps he will be satisfied," said Dr. Viret, rather to himself than to his com- panion. -"Do you often walk about the village at one o'clock in the morning?" he asked, as they crossed the churchyard, this being a short way to The Rookery. "Not often." Owen's tone was anything rather than encouraging, and Dr. Viret became silent until they left the lych-gate. "Is it too much to ask what brought you cut to-night?" ho said. "Yes, Dr. Viret, I am afraid it is." Florence opened the door, and led Dr. Viret at once to Arnold. For a moment Owen had seemed to hasitae, then with an air of determination followed her into the dining-room. "Get it over. Doctor cried Arnold "I know what it means. Fairford will lend a hand. Have you brought any chloroform?' Dr. Viret placed the glass-stoppered bot- tle on the table beside the other articles. "Good man!" Arnold exclaimed, with an air of relief. Then Florence was sent away, and Dr. Viret immediately got to work; and when the arm was set, Owen helped Arnold into feed. "Bad for you all, this," said the doctor, meeting Florence on reaching the hall again. "You haven't turned in yet—three o'clock, too. How's Ann?" "She is dead," was the reply. She cited at half-past twelve. It was terrible to see her at the last, battling for power of speech, as if she Ions;ed to say a few last words.' Owen folded his arms and turned away Its her tears began to flow afresh. "You're tetter alone," said Dr. Viret; "I'll come over to-morrow and talk about Ann's funeral." Owen followed the doctor out of the house, and stopping at his own gate, asked, abruptly "What is to result from all this?" "Derwent will have to keep quiet a few we2ks, and be a little more abstemious." "I meant rather regarding myself. Of course, I am sorry the man is hurt. I am wondering whether he will make a noise about the affair." "He knows he brought it on himself," Dr. Viret answered. "If a man tried to enter my house, I should serve him the same. Come, Tiger. Good-night, Mr. Fairford. Joe Bodger from the hayloft window saw Owen approach the door. During the last two hours he had endured all the pains of Tantalus. He had awaited anxiously the result of the encounter with the Mogfords, and been astonished to see the figure re-enter the garden alone, and apparently unharmed: still more astonished to see another dusky form dart in at the second gate, to hear I sounds of a struggle, and Arnold's yell of pain. That the cause of this proved to be Owen Jiimself, instead of the woman, surprised him less. A suspicion of something of the kind J) ad filled his mind for some time past; but concerning the purpose of these nightly wan- derings Joe remained as much in the dark ¡ as ever. Although it was early morning when I1 lo- rence retired to rest, she came downstairs onlv an hour later than usual, and looked up in astonishment when Arnold entered the room before she finished breakfast. Whilst Owen fetched Dr. Viret last Eight, Arnold, in short, uis jointed sentences, gave her a hurried account of kift accident; aad,, | whilst hardly blaming Owen for resisting her cousins intrusion, it was entirely impossible to withhold her sympathy from the sufferer, whom, in fact, she had expected to be an invalid, keeping his room for several days. Perhaps Arnold stood higher in her regard this morning than since the first day of his return to RookfieM. "It give me a twinge now and then," lie said, answering inquiries. "But I'm a bad hand at lying up. It took an hour to dress myself, and you observe I haven't made a verv good job of it yet." His coat, buttoned across the chest, hung like a cape outside his arms, ms good- humoured face looked pale, and black patches were visible under his eyes. "Besides," he added, "I knew there was the funeral to see to. I say, Floy, you'll have to cut up my food. I'm like an infant, you know." She began to attend to his wants as he talked on. "To tell the truth, I don't care to play second fiddle to Vu'et in everything. I like to have my say, and I don't see why I shouldn't. Where are you going to bury the woman? Good old Ann "As the expense of the funeral will fall upon Dr. Viret," she answered, "I can't very well decide anything till I have seen him this morning." "It doesn't cost much to bury anybody," lie insisted. "Besides, there's the grave all ready. You've only got to have it opened and pop Ann in." "Mother's grave, you mean?" "Of course. What other could I mean, Floy?" "But—but there is only space for one more coffin, Arnold; and-and if father should return-" "My dear girl, he won't return. Practi- cally the grave is mine, but I'll give up my berth in it and welcome What on eart J IS the good of going to the expense of another, when this is all ready?" Nothing could so surely betray Florence's conviction that she would never see her father again, If she had actually nouristid even the faintest hope until now, surely nothing would have induced her to yield to Arnold's suggestion; but it seemed to be just wLat I the old faithful servant would have w shed, cl and ifc would certainly save an outlay which must inevitably devolve upon Dr. Viret. After breakfast, whilst Arnold was recl.n- ing upon the sofa, Dr. Viret arrived, and, having examined the dressings, asked for Florence. "There's Ann's funeral to talk about," he said, "and the sooner it's all settled the bet- ter." "It is all settled," Arnold replied. "We talked it over at breakfast, and we're going to bury her in the family grave." "Who suggested that?" Dr. Viret de- manded. "Come to that, I suggested it. The is practically mine, you know: and 1 offered it to Florence for Ann. It will save expense, and it seems the natural thing to do." "Natural—I don't see it. However," he added, "if your cousin wishes it, that's enough." "Here she is," said Arnold, as the door opened; "you can inquire for yourself." "So you wish to lav Ann in your raotner s crave?" he .asked, taking her proffered hand. ° "Yes, I thought so, Dr. Viret If you see no objection." "I—none in the world. If it is really your wish. Only don't be ridiculous aTe you sure the question of money does not arise?" He appeared a little difficult to convince on this point, but at last the matter was decided, and Arnold drew a breath of re- lief. "Enough of that," he cried. "I say, doc- tor, I got beautifuly sold last night, didn't 1." "Yes, you scratched a Russian, and found a Tartar.' I suppose admit your blun- der now. Upon my word:, you made me be- lieve a woman existed, too, between you." I believe so still doctor." you've pretty good reason for scepticism. "Oh," Arnold returned, "I admit I was a juggins. Instead of going quietly to work, I put Fairford on his guard. Consequence, he thought he would hoodwink me. He took advantage of the rain to hide his face with an umbrella, and went out himself, instead of the woman. Oh, I can see through his little game." This explanation caused Florence not a little disappointment. If Lizzie had seen only Owen himself, there was not the least need to believe that he possessed a. wife. Y et she could not set Arnold's suggestion entirely on one side, as she wished. After all, it seemed at least possible that some hint of the Mog- ford plot had reached his ears, and that he took those means to stifle the rumours which were now becoming prevalent in the village. And when Owen arrived that afternoon, she felt still undecided what to think. It was a visit she had half dreaded, half longed for, all day. "Sorrow won't mend your cousin's broken bones," he said, "and it's not much use say- ing I didn't intend to injure Mr. Derwent. To. a limited extent, I am afraid I did.. Miss Derwent," he added, gravely, "I feel that you can't help a great deal of curiosity about —about ■" He paused in some embarrassment, and, after a. moment's hesitation, she looked franklv up into his face. "I have felt—I do feel curious, intensely curious, Mr. Fairford." "You must, I am sure you must," he con- tinued; "yet I can't even attempt to satisfy your curiosity. I have no explanation to offer you—not a word; and the worst of it is, that to a certain degree I feel I have deceived you." •■Oh, she cried, "I could not associate you and deceit, not for an instant." "Thank you." He spoke with evident fervour, and then, after a short silence, added: "I know I am subjecting you to a severe strain, and only to satisfy my own egotism- nothing else, nothing in the world. But I want to ask vou, Florence, for pity's sake don't iudge by appearances, however conclu- sive they may seem." To her the moment was an intensely Im- poVtaat one. There appeared a certain sanctity about this interview, and she put aside the conventionality which would have ifegulated their intercoure in an ordinary way. "I have never questioned, never doubted for a moment. Of course, I see your life is shadowed by some mystery, by something very sad and painful. I—I only wish it were in my power to help you." "You do help me," he answered. "You help mo by the very desire; more than I can tell you, more than you will ever know. You give me the two things that are almost the sweetest in the world—your trust and sympathy. "And," he added, drawing him- self more ercet than usual, "I think I deserve them." He took his hat from the table and stood with it a moment in his hand. Presently he drew closer, and she heard her own heart beat as she waited, wondering what he would say next. But it was onlv good-bye, and in another minute he had left her. CHAPTER XVII.—NEWS AT LAST. It was Thursday morning, and the day fixed for Ann's funeral. The blinds were all drawn down at The Rookery, and the sun shone upon them hotly, and the flowers looked cheerful in the garden. Mindful of Florence's slightest wish, as usual, Dr. Viret had volunteered to follow the old servant to the grave. There was none besides; and she had gratefully as- sented. The funeral was timed for one o'clock, and at half-past eleven Florence sat read- ing the morning newspaper, whilst Arnold la,y wearily on the sofa, caressing his wounded arm, when the visitors' bell rang. To their astonishment, Owen pushed past the housemaid, and, unceremoniously enter- ing, ignored Arnold, whom he had not seen since the night of the fracas, and walked quickly towards Florence. "I bring bad news he cried, evidently labouring under intense excitement. "About father?'' she faltered, blanching to the lips, her face looking suddenly all eyes. "Mr. Derwent's body is found. Arnold rose from the sofa, not at all quickly; doubtless his broken arm made his movements more careful than they used to be. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed. Florence, sank back into her chair again; her eves quite dry, a terrible, stricken ex- pression in her face. "Where? where?" she gasped, barely able to form the words. "Tell me quickly; let me hear the worst. I can bear it." "In—for God's sake be brave, Florence," to form the words. "Tell me quickly; let me hear the worst. I can bear it." "In—for God's sake be brave, Florence," Owen continued, "in your mother's grave." As he leaned over her she bent forward, and whilst her eyes seemed to protrude, and her lips were parted with horror, ughtly grinned Owen's left arm "I was passing the churchyard," he con- tinued hurriedly, "and seeing a crowd, en- tered. The coffiin lay beside the grave, its lid just being replaced." "Why—why did they take it off?" she cried. Arnold was pacing up and down the room. The most casual observer might have per- ceived that the news which tilled her with horror affected him very differently. Hits: handsome, good-humoured face wore a look of elation; his excitement was obvious. "On opening the grave just now," Owen explained, "Mogford saw that the uppermost coffin had been tampered with, and sent for Sergeant Caiman In: the sergeant's pre- sence he removed the .Jjd; it was held only by four screws. Instead of your mother's He tout Ins liat trom the table and. steod with it a moment in his hand." corpse, he saw Mrr Derwent's." "At any rate," cried Arnold, "the mystery is solved at last." She noticed him for the first time since Owen's arrival, and his attitude filled her with disgust and abhorrence. Even at this moment, so awful for her, he could think only of his own advantage Alas a great fal- ling off from the cousin of her imagination. 'That is all I know," Owen said quickly, as if to slur over the other's conduct. "They were going to bring the coffin here. I was afraid lest vou should see it unprepared——" "But mother r Florence murmured, "my darling mother what have they done with her ? Where hava they stolen her to ? Oh, it is awful !—worse than anyone could have imagined It is barbarous It must be the work of some ghoul!" Whilst she spoke, in all her earliest agony of mind, and in the terror which the news inspired, the tramp of heavy feet was heard without, and, with a glance at her ashen face, Owen opened the door and left the room. "I told you Uncle Roderick was dead," cried Arnold:, irrepressibly. "I would have sworn to it. Well," he added, repeat- ing himself, "it's all cleared up now, at any rate." Cleared up It is a thousand times more mysterious than ever," she retorted. "Cleared .uT) Will it ever be cleared up ? Who could have murdered father, desecrated mother's grave?" Silence followed, broken only by her quickly drawn breath, the ticking of the black marble clock on the mantel-piece, and Arnold's restless pacing back and forth. Even at this moment his movements irri- tated her, and she longed to bid him be still. Then he stopped. Florence held her breath, and it might have been her fancy, but a deeper silence seemed to fall upon the room. She could hear in another minute footsteps on the stairs, as of men labouring with a heavy burthen; then silence again, till the door opened to admit Owen. "I have taken many liberties," he sa.id, coming to her side; "I have been ordering your servants about as if they were my own.. The ooffin ha,s been- carried up stairs." "To his own room?" "I thought you would prefer that." Already she vms upon her feet. "Will it be allowed to rest even there she exclaimed. I must see him, Mr. Fairford." He opened the door immediately. Any- one who knew her must have been aware that a strong will underlay her ordinary gracious manner. The coffin, stained just as it was taken from the grave, stood upon three chairs art the foot of the bed, and Arnold on < ne side, Florence on the other. Owen lifted its lid and rested it against the dressing- table. She looked down upon, the dearly loved face. Unthinkingly, she had expected to see it as in life, or, at the worst, pale and placid, as her mother's had been when she saw it the last time. But it was Arnold who seemed the most deeply affected by the ghastly reality. The shock to the system caused by his broken arm may have had much to do with this. Since Monday he had not been like himself, and whereas his cousin merely shuddered and covered her face with her hands, he staggered backwards, and would have fallen if Owen had not come to his aid. "Like a woman, am I not?" he said, a minute later. "I used to be accustomed to the sort of thing, too, at Sebastian's. It almost turned me up, though, and no mistake." Once outside the door, Owen turned to Florence. "You must not stay here," he urged. "In this house, I mean." "Oh, come, that's all rot!" said Arnold, as they re-entered the dining-room. "Be- sides"—— But Owen took no notice of his inter- ference, and, amidst all her grief, Florence liked to feel that a strong man was acting for her. "Dr. Viret is eager to receive you," he urged again. "Let me take you there at once." For a few moments she hesitated, Arnold eagerly observing her. But after what 3he had seen of him to-day- his presence formed an additional reason for her exodus, and presently she left the room to get ready. "I say," said Arnold, "it strikes me you take a precious lot upon yourself, Fairford. However, I can forgive you a. good deal tor bringing the news." Florence could not leave home, for ever as she believed, without many a pang; yet she felt she could not remain whilst her father's corpse was there, and her cousin re- joicing at its discovery. She bade Arnold good-bye, barely touching his proffered hand, and accompanied Owen across the garden and aJong the quiet road. "Your cousin thinks I have taken rather too much upon myself," he said. "I hope you don't share that opinion?" "No, she answered. "I am very grate- ful." Scarcely another word passed, but when they drew near. the churchyard he quietly lifted her right axm and placed it upon his left. A small throng had gathered there about the grave, and he increased the pace until they entered Dr. Viret's lodge gate. The doctor was crossing the hall as they came to the door, and directly he opened it, astonished to see Florence and Owen together, she ran towards him. "They have found, father! she cried. "Found his body, and and brought! it home. For a moment the news seemed to take his breath away, the next he was leading her by the hand into the laboratory. Not wait- ing to be questioned, in her excitement she soon told the rest. "He lay in mother's coffin," she said breathlessly. "Oh, Dr. Viret, where have they taken my darling mother?" It was this which shocked her so cruelly, almost more deeply than the confirmation of her worst fears concerning her fa,ther-that her mother should have been spirited away. "Have you seen the body?" Dr. Viret asked, after Owen had given further parti- culars. "Yes, I have seen it," she replied. "I felt I must see it. But it is not father— I cannot realise that it is my father. It frightened me. But, Dr. Viret, tell me what they have done with her ? Where have the taken my mother ?" Dr. Viret rested a hand tenderly upon her shoulder, and, turning to Owen, looked signi- ficantly into his face. "I thought it better Miss Derwent should not remain at The Laurels," Owen said. "Unless there is anything I can do-" "About this woman's funeral," exclaimed Dr. Viret. Time is getting on. Some- one ought to follow her. No use asking Derwent, and I can't go now. "You see, my dear," he added, turning again to .Flo- rence, "there will be an inquest; moist likely to-morrow. Somebod- must be present on your behalf. Edwards, of course. There is no time to write barely time to travel to London, and reach his office before it closes. I must catch the next train. But who is to follow Ann?" Florence did not like the idea of the old servant's heinr- laid in the earth and no mourner present to pay this last mark of respect, and in her perplexity looked appeal- ingly at Owen, who, instantly perceiving her wish, set forth to obey it. After summoning his housekeeper, a tiny woman of sixty with white hair and a faded looking face, but gentile, kindly manners withal, and leaving Florence to her care, Dr. Viret quickly followed Owen from the house. On his way to the station he stopped at the village post-omcø, and despatched a telegram to Mr. Edwards:- "Derwent'.s body found. Coming to con- sult vou." Then he strode towards the station, and was soon on the waTT to London. CHAPTER XVIII.—INSPECTOR HOLT AGAIN. The pavements of Cheapside were thronged with men homeward bound, two ceaseless lines of vehicles filled the roadway, and a friendly policeman took pity on Dr. Viret as he stood hesitatingly on the kerb, and piloted him across from King-street to Old Jawiry. The offices of Messrs. Edwards, Son, and Mathews stood on his left, and a belated clerk at once led him upstairs to the senior's partner's private room. Mr. Edwards stood on the hearthrug, with his hands in his trousters pockets: a short, high-shouldered man, about fifty years of age, cleanly shaven, with somewhat long Ir greyish hair, and the appearance of an actor, rather than a solictor. At the moment of Dr. Viret's entrance he was laughing heartily at some story told by his companion—none other than Inspector Holt. "If it had not been for your wire," said Mr. Edwaards, in answer to Dr. Viret's apology for his late visit, "you would have found us all gone. So poor Derwent's body is found at last You know Inspector Holt, I think? As there appeared to be no time to lose, I thought it best to send for him. Well, sit down, doctor, and let us hear all about it. To beoin. with, where was the body found, and when?" Dr. Viret had an attentive audience to his tale, and not until it was completed did either of his hearers utter a word. Then In- spector Holt buttoned his coat, uncrossed his legs, and leaned slightly forward. "Then," he said, "I understand that if it had not been arranged to bury this woman, this Ann Thursday, in Mrs. Derwent's grave, the truth would not have come out?" "That is so." was the answer. "Was the idee. Miss Derwent's?" "No; her cousin suggested it." "He has returned to England, then?" asked Inspector Holt, sharply. "Last Saturday Week," said Mr. Edwards. "Before there was time to receive your let- ter informing him of his uncle's death?" Muite so. He left the Cape before my letter could have reached there, before Mr. Derwent's death as a fact." "I understood from Miss Derwent he went out to remain some years. Of course," In- spector Holt added quietly, "you remember that Mr. Arnold Derwent—I think that is the name—is the only person who had an interest in his uncle's death." "He didn't arrive till three weeks after the event," said Dr. Viret. "By which vessel did he sail?" the inspec- tor demanded. He was answered by Mr. Edwards: "By the Stirling Castle. I may as well tell vou the Stirling Castle was due at Sout- hampton on the 28th of February." "Five days before this murder was com- mitted." said Holt. "I thought you said he arrived only on Saturday week?" u "Quite so, quite so," exclaimed testily. "He sailed on the Stirling got left behind at Teneriffe, and subset J j completed his journey on the Radnor, entered dock on Saturday w-eek." "Ah," said the Inspector, "I sboiiW to be quite clear about this. Mr. mjjl- V Derwent sailed from the Cape on the ing Castle. If he had arrived on boar ( her, he would have landed on February 28th. But," he continued drly, I his journey at Teneriffe, and consequ0^ arrived only ten days ago. Now, Edwards, supposing he did continue voyage on the Stirling Castle, and suPPr j ing he sailed about the 6th of MarcU | Teneriffe—how long does it take to & there?" "About a. week. I believe." i bl "Well, then, Mr. Arnold Derwent still have landed at Southampton from i. Radnor last Saturday week, sir." There was a short silence, during ) Holt looked curiously into his hearer's xa It was Dr. Viret who spoke first. j "I hate all this," he said imp»tieI1^ "Besides, the matter is capable of Pr } If he did reach England on the SW j Castle, I suppose you can easily estabhs- „ fact. But I don't believe it for a naolnefr(3s "Nor I, doctor," answered Mr. Be3fc- cordially. "The young man has his nessee, or doubtless he would never been left behind. But in mv opinion Jie perfectly honest and straighforward. y "We shall see," said Holt. "Are tuere w marks of violence on the body?" he as turning to Dr. Viret again. 1 "I have not seen it. The news re»c me through Mr. Fairford." "I recollect—the man next door. He th8 in a largish house all alone; isn't that man?" Inspector Holt was watching Viret closely as he always observed son he happened to be interrogating. alcne? he exclaimed abruptly. Dr. Viret smiled in his grave way-. fan," "I gave you an unconscious mCllca, I ten' he said good-humouredly; "I had no tion to do so. The fact is an open 5 tion. ø. "Perhaps you won't mind giving Ulewt chance of answering it, doctor," Holt suggested; and, in as few words possible, Dr. Viret related the story of zie's. fright, of Arnold's consequent and the result of his attempt to prove i • Ali," said Holt, "he was anxious to the mystery, no doubt. He would be- "Anxious to prove his uncle's death, naturally." Mr. Edwards interposed. that was done, he could not touch and in the face of your own theory, inspe —you were rather confident, you kno^C did not care to run the risk of malang an advance." "if "Well," said the Inspector hurriedly, that it comes to the point, the only evidence exists in favour of this woman's e:ci"S v0ll{, is the servant's. Mr. Arnold Der" merely saw Mr. Fairford himself." » pr- "I told you it was an open question* Viret replied, "and that is why I did mtend to refer to it. But you wereer- sharp for me, Inspector. By the bye, nt haps I ought to add that Derwent. ford sticks to his theorv: declares that a.ud was aware a watch was being kept;, deliberately took measures to deceive. "How does the case strike you?" gfr0]t. Mr. Edwards, looking perplexedly at 0 "All of a heap, at present. But, detective added, "I want to ask lb'• otl6 just another question or two. What the grave, doctor?—I think you attc < Mrs. Derwent's funeral—not made of I3 j of course?" "Yes, it was." bodl "What! do you know that before a t can be buried in a brick grave it -Ilsxtovv encased in lead and soldered ^own? e&- this leaden shell would want a deal of °V 11 ing." "foe "Let me explain," said Dr. Viret- grave had been the property of the f8; e(j for some years, and Mr. Derwent "*vJ, e0 his wife to be buried in it, and then, v'. his own time came, there would remain space to lay him with her. But he..etalk tained a fad—you must have heard him about it, Mr. Edwards?" "The earth-to-earth system, you doctor? un, yes everybody who kne^ had heard him talk bout it. You see'^1e spec tor, Mr. Derwent believed that rth sooner one came in contact with mother eqr the better." "And," Dr. Viret added, "his difSc)L,e was to indulge his fad and at the sai»e utilise the existing brick grave. He loaari- into the matter, and found that the jjj tries do permit such graves to be with earth all round, and in this case coffin consists of only the one wooden P, i "The idea being," Mr. Edwards a "that the wood will presently rot awa^!nijl3- bring the into contact 'with the vof "That is the reason," said Dr. Viret, the the grave was left open on the night Of interment." "left open, was it?" asked Holt. ^<5 "Well, of course the grave-digger cover it up in some way; at least, one e$' imagine he would not leave the coffi11 posed.' "He would lay planks across the said Mr. Edwards. "So that all tlie crl hac to do was to remove these, ^oosey\[gs> lid of the ooffin, and change the bo, tic ugh what on earth his motive c°u passes comprehension. Perhaps the illCl wilt throw a little light upon the ?aSíos, "At present," said the detective, "ltf 100 Of about as dark as any I ever heard 0 'COIfi' course, we suppose the murder was 0 If raitfced on the night of March the jQ, it w is a murder, there must be signs of lepee; we want more evidence." i "You have not forgotten the bar inspector?" remarked Mr. Edawrds. » "No, sir; I've a fairly good meinorj-^ "Well," said Dr. Viret, rising, "I that you ought to represent Miss Der at the inquest, Mr. Edwards; and as "jjo may take place to-morrow, there time to write." J1 it "Directly you know for certain w i<per is to be held," answered the solicitor, "Q. haps you will send a wire; another t° spector Holt." -viret Having promised to do this, Pr- to presently quitted the office, and returne^g. Rookfield by the last train, long after ^orJj rence had retired for the night, entirely out. But little sleep fell to her 1°^ gji one time she had almost longed to end put to her suspense; so terrible se the uncertainty, that even decisive IlLeless Mr. Derwent's death had appeared disastrous. Now, however, she knew that her was dead, yet the perplexity reina Though his body had been discoyere, fottl of her mother was missing, and for this deed she could conceive no possible 111 ¡'[ The desecration of the grave filled ber. a almost more horror and repugnance tha 11ft!; father's violent end. "Comae in, come in; Dr. Vivet bade her eJl she tapped at the laboratory door about' o'clock on Friday morning, the housek having insisted upon bringing her to her bedroom. "This," he added, /° ing her gaze around the apartment, "*s jj- Daubney calls my slaughter-house ,^{jiKs blooded butcher, your precious vicar t me, my dear." { "He doesn't know you as I do, Dr. V» "He doesn't want to; it would oep^ him of an enjoyable emotion. No^? have a trying dav before you, -^i0recw'; Edwards is coming to the inquest; Xrisp Holt also. It is to be held at the seho<> at one o'clock. Cadman came over me an hour ago. Brown is making mortem, and I was asked to go and the body before you were awake." (Te be continued. Commenced July 1>