With difficulty the name on the lid was deciphered, but it was found not to be the coffin of him whom they sought.

“We can make short work of this,” said Marchdale, “by only examining those leaden coffins which have lost the plates from off their outer cases.  There do not appear to be many in such a state.”

He then, with another light, which he lighted from the one that Henry now carried, commenced actively assisting in the search, which was carried on silently for more than ten minutes.

Suddenly Mr. Marchdale cried, in a tone of excitement,—­

“I have found it.  It is here.”

They all immediately surrounded the spot where he was, and then he pointed to the lid of a coffin, which he had been rubbing with his handkerchief, in order to make the inscription more legible, and said,—­

“See.  It is here.”

By the combined light of the candles they saw the words,—­

“Marmaduke Bannerworth, Yeoman, 1640.”

“Yes, there can be no mistake here,” said Henry.  “This is the coffin, and it shall be opened.”

“I have the iron crowbar here,” said Marchdale.  “It is an old friend of mine, and I am accustomed to the use of it.  Shall I open the coffin?”

“Do so—­do so,” said Henry.

They stood around in silence, while Mr. Marchdale, with much care, proceeded to open the coffin, which seemed of great thickness, and was of solid lead.

It was probably the partial rotting of the metal, in consequence of the damps of that place, that made it easier to open the coffin than it otherwise would have been, but certain it was that the top came away remarkably easily.  Indeed, so easily did it come off, that another supposition might have been hazarded, namely, that it had never at all been effectually fastened.

[Illustration]

The few moments that elapsed were ones of very great suspense to every one there present; and it would, indeed, be quite sure to assert, that all the world was for the time forgotten in the absorbing interest which appertained to the affair which was in progress.

The candles were now both held by Mr. Chillingworth, and they were so held as to cast a full and clear light upon the coffin.  Now the lid slid off, and Henry eagerly gazed into the interior.

There lay something certainly there, and an audible “Thank God!” escaped his lips.

“The body is there!” exclaimed George.

“All right,” said Marchdale, “here it is.  There is something, and what else can it be?”

“Hold the lights,” said Mr. Chillingworth; “hold the lights, some of you; let us be quite certain.”

George took the lights, and Mr. Chillingworth, without any hesitation, dipped his hands at once into the coffin, and took up some fragments of rags which were there.  They were so rotten, that they fell to pieces in his grasp, like so many pieces of tinder.