Part 19 (1/2)

”I want to examine this garden thoroughly,” I whispered to Jack, and then I switched on my torch and showed a light around. A tangle of weeds and undergrowth was revealed--a tangle so great that to penetrate it without the use of a bill-hook appeared impossible.

Still we went forward, examining everywhere with our powerful electric lights.

”What will the people say?” laughed Jack. ”They'll take us for burglars, old chap!”

”The place is empty,” I replied. ”Our only fear is of the police. To them we would be compelled to make an explanation--and that's just what I don't want to do.”

For some time we carefully searched, conversing only in whispers. My hands were scratched, and stung by nettles, and Jack had his coat badly torn by thorns. The garden had been allowed to run wild for all the years since old Mrs. Carpenter's death, and the two ash trees had spread until their thick branches overshadowed a large portion of the ground.

Beneath one of these trees I suddenly halted as an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n escaped me. Near the trunk, and in such a position that it would not be seen even from the windows of the house, yawned a hole, and at its side a mound of newly-dug earth.

”Ah!” I cried. ”This is what I've been in search of!” The discovery revealed a ghastly truth. I shuddered at the sight of it.

”What, that hole?” asked Jack, in a low voice as we approached and peered into it. I judged it to be about three feet or so in depth.

”What a funny thing to search for!”

”That hole, Jack, was intended for a man's grave!” I whispered hoa.r.s.ely, ”and the man intended was _myself_!”

”You!” he gasped. ”What do you mean, Owen?”

”I mean that that grave yonder was dug in order to conceal my dead body,” was my low, meaning answer. ”And I fear--fear very much--that the remains of others who have met with foul play have been concealed here!”

”You mean that murder was actually intended!” he exclaimed in astonishment. ”When?”

”Last night. I was entrapped here and narrowly escaped.”

”How? Tell me all about it,” he urged.

”Later on. Not here,” I said. ”Let us see if there is any further evidence of recent digging,” and together we examined the ground beneath the second tree.

Presently Jack in the course of searching about, came to a spot where the ground seemed perceptibly softer. My stick sank in, while in other parts the ground seemed hard. Beneath the trees the weeds and gra.s.s grew thinly, and I presumed that the miscreants could work there under the canopy of leaves without fear of observation.

I bent down and carefully examined the surface, which, for about four feet square, bore plain traces of having recently been moved.

Something had evidently been interred there. Yet tiny fresh blades of green were just springing up, as though gra.s.s-seed had been sprinkled over in order to obliterate traces of the recent excavation.

”What do you think of it?” I inquired of my companion.

”Well, perhaps somebody has really been buried here--eh?” he said.

”Don't you think you ought to go and tell the police at once?”

I was silent, in bewilderment.

”My own opinion is, Owen, that if a serious attempt has been made upon you, and you really suspect that that hole yonder was prepared to receive you, then it is your duty to tell the police. Others may fall into the trap,” Jack added.

”Not here,” I said. ”The a.s.sa.s.sins will not return, never fear. They know of their failure in my case, and by this time they are, in all probability, out of the country.”