come and control the dog."

"Heath! Heath!" comes from the adjoining vacant lot; "come, for God's
sake, quick!"

In another moment, Clifford Heath has seized his hat, and, followed by
his neighbor, is out in the yard.

"Come this way, O'Meara," he says, quickly; "that is if you can leap the
fence, it's not high," and he strides through his own grounds, scales
the intervening palings, and in a few seconds is on the scene.

On the scene! At the edge of the old cellar, one of the men recently
denominated, "poor devils," by the musing doctor, is gesticulating
violently, and urging him forward with lips that are pale with terror.

Down in the old cellar, the second man, paler still than the first, is
making futile efforts to draw the dog away from something, at which he
is clawing and tearing, barking furiously all the time.

Something lies under a heaped up mass of leaves, grass, and freshly
turned earth; something from which the fierce beast is tearing away the
covering with rapid movements. As he leaps down into the cellar,
Clifford Heath sees what it is that has so terrified the two men. From
under the leaves and earth, Prince has brought to light a human foot and
leg!

Instantly he springs forward, his hand upon the dog's collar, his face
pale as ashes.

"Prince!" he cries; "Prince! come away, sir."

[Illustration: "Prince, come away, sir!"]

The dog crouches, quails for a moment, then utters a low growl, and
tries to shake himself free; for the first time, he refuses to obey his
master.

But it _is_ his master; there is a short, sharp struggle, and then the
brute cowers, whining at his feet.

"Wait!" he says, imperiously to the men, and then, speaking a stern word
of command, he strides away, followed by the conquered and trembling
brute.

It is the work of a moment to chain him fast; and then Clifford Heath
goes swiftly back to the men, who stand very much as he left them.

"Can this be some trick?" Mr. O'Meara is saying, peering down from the
edge of the cellar wall at the mound of earth and the protruding leg.

"There is no trick here," replies Clifford Heath, once more springing
down into the cellar. "My dog would not be deceived. Come down here,
O'Meara; this thing must be unearthed."

Mr. O'Meara lowers himself carefully down, and the man who has thus far
stood sentinel follows suit. Then the four approach the mound once more.
For a moment they regard each other silently; then one of the maso