“And perhaps we may meet them on the road where we are going, thinking it a rare lonely spot where they can hide, and no chance of their being found out.”

[Illustration]

“No,” said the doctor; “they will not go to such a place; it has by far too bad a name for even such men as those to go near, much less stop in.”

“I can hardly think that,” said Charles Holland, “for these fellows are too terrified for their personal safety, to think of the superstitious fears with which a place may be regarded; and these men, in such a place as the one you speak of, they will be at home.”

“Well, well, rather than be done, we must fight for it; and when you come to consider we have one pick and two shovels, we shall be in full force.”

“Well said, doctor; how far have we to go?”

“Not more than a quarter of a mile.”

They pursued their way through the fields, and under the hedge-rows, until they came to a gate, where they stopped awhile, and began to consult and to listen.

“A few yards up here, on the left,” said the doctor; “I know the spot; besides, there is a particular mark.  Now, then, are you all ready?”

“Yes, all.”

“Here,” said the doctor, pointing out the marks by which the spot might be recognized; “here is the spot, and I think we shall not be half a foot out of our reckoning.”

“Then let us begin instanter,” said Henry, as he seized hold of the pickaxe, and began to loosen the earth by means of the sharp end.

“That will do for the present,” said Chillingworth; “now let me and Charles take a turn with our shovels, and you will get on again presently.  Throw the earth up on the bank in one heap, so that we can put it on again without attracting any attention to the spot by its being left in clods and uneven.”

“Exactly,” said Henry, “else the body will be discovered.”

They began to shovel away, and continued to do so, after it had been picked up, working alternately, until at length Charles stuck his 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!”