ace scooped out for it by the
hands that struck it from among the living. Under the eyes of them all
the dirt has been removed from the broad breast, and two gaping wounds
are disclosed; cuts, deep and wide, are made with some broad, heavy
weapon, of the dagger species.

When they have all, in turn, examined the body, as it lies, it is lifted
out carefully, and placed upon a litter, in the midst of the group, and
then all turn their eyes from the shallow grave to the new resting place
of its late occupant.

Not all; Raymond Vandyck, still gazing as if fascinated by that
hollowed-out bit of earth, starts forward suddenly, then draws
shudderingly back, and points to something that lies almost imbedded in
the soft soil. Somebody comes forward, examines, and then draws from
out the grave, where it has lain, directly under the body, a knife--a
knife of peculiar shape and workmanship--a long, keen, _surgeon's
knife_! There are dark stains upon the blade and handle; and a murmur of
horror runs through the crowd as it is held aloft to their view.

Raymond Vandyck draws instinctively away from the grave now, and from
the man who still holds the knife; and in so doing he comes nearer the
group of women, and catches a sentence that falls from the lips of Nance
Burrill.

Suddenly his face flames into anger, and he strides across to where Mr.
O'Meara stands.

"O'Meara, what is this that I hear; have they dared accuse Heath?"

"Don't you know, Vandyck?"

"No; I have heard nothing, save the fact of the murder; the coroner's
summons found me at home."

"Heath will be accused, I think."

Raymond Vandyck turns and goes over to Clifford Heath; without uttering
a word, he links his arm within that of the suspected man, and standing
thus, listens to the opening of the trial.

The only sign of recognition he receives is a slight pressure of the arm
upon which his hand rests; but before Clifford Heath's eyes, just for
the moment, there swims a suspicious moisture.

Above them, crowding close about the cellar walls, is a motley throng,
curious, eager, expectant; among the faces peering down may be seen
that of the portly gentleman; his diamond pin glistening as he turns
this way and that; his great coat blown back by the gusts of wind, and a
natty umbrella clutched firmly in his plump, gloved hand. Not far
distant is private detective Belknap, looking as curious as any, and
still nearer the cellar's edge is the rakish book-peddle