Dick knew he was there. And Harker, after one glance at the ring
of faces, drew Bryce back and put his lips close to his ear and breathed
a name in an almost imperceptible yet clear whisper.

"Glassdale!"

Bryce started for the third time. Glassdale!--the man whom Harker
had seen in Wrychester within an hour or so of Braden's death: the
ex-convict, the forger, who had forged the Duke of Saxonsteade's name!
And there! standing, apparently quite at his ease, by the Duke's side.
What did it all mean?

There was no explanation of what it meant to be had from the man whom
Bryce and Harker and Dick Bewery secretly watched from behind the screen
of cypress trees. Four of them watched in silence, or with no more than
a whispered word now and then while the fifth worked. This man worked
methodically, replacing each stone as he took it up and examined the
soil beneath it. So far nothing had resulted, but he was by that
time working at some distance from the tomb, and Bryce, who had an
exceedingly accurate idea of where the spot might be, as indicated
in the measurements on the scrap of paper, nudged Harker as the
master-mason began to take up the last of the small flags. And suddenly
there was a movement amongst the watchers, and the master-mason looked
up from his job and motioned Mitchington to pass him a trowel which lay
at a little distance.

"Something here!" he said, loudly enough to reach the ears of Bryce and
his companions. "Not so deep down, neither, gentlemen!"

A few vigorous applications of the trowel, a few lumps of earth cast
out of the cavity, and the master-mason put in his hand and drew forth
a small parcel, which in the light of the lamp held close to it by
Mitchington looked to be done up in coarse sacking, secured by great
blotches of black sealing wax. And now it was Harker who nudged Bryce,
drawing his attention to the fact that the parcel, handed by the
master-mason to Mitchington was at once passed on by Mitchington to the
Duke of Saxonsteade, who, it was very plain to see, appeared to be as
much delighted as surprised at receiving it.

"Let us go to your office, inspector," he said. "We'll examine the
contents there. Let us all go at once!"

The three figures behind the cypress trees remained immovable and silent
until the five searchers had gone away with their lamps and tools and
the sound of their retreating footsteps in Friary Lane had died out.
Then Dick Bewery moved and began to slip off,