During these transactions the excitement of the assembled multitude was so great, that, but for the presence of the yeomanry, and the judicious measures adopted by Mr. Lupton, it is to be feared the disorders of the previous night would have been concluded by a yet more horrible catastrophe, in the murder of the Doctor, in open day, upon the memorable site of his own destroyed and now for eyer vanished establishment at Nabbfield. This fearful consequence was, however, happily avoided: and all danger being now passed, Mr. James Woodruff and his daughter Fanny again joined company with Mr. Lupton, and followed, with agitated and anxious feelings, in the wake of the great crowd that accompanied the conveyance of the mysterious box to the Squire's own residence. A short time after their arrival at the Hall, the three above-named individuals, along with one or two other persons, whom Mr. Lupton purposely admitted as witnesses on the occasion, retired into a private room, situate in a remote part of the building, whither the chest had already been carried, under the care of several officers, and remained present while a heavy lock upon it was broken, and the uplifted lid for the first time displayed, to other eyes than those of Mr. Rowel, a sight so horrible, that even the strongest-nerved man present recoiled with sudden fear, while Fanny uttered a loud shriek of terror, and fell insensible into her father's arms. Before them, huddled up, to make it fit into its otherwise too short habitation, lay a corpse, the body and limbs of which had undergone dissection, while the head and face, by some process of preparation and injection, yet remained sufficiently perfect to exhibit such a distinct resemblance to what must have been its appearance while alive, as left upon the minds of the spectators not the slightest doubt but that they now assuredly looked upon the remains of the unfortunate Lawyer Skin well! By what motive the Doctor could possibly have been actuated in taking the body from its grave could only be conjectured; and the most probable conjecture made upon the occasion was, that he had done so in order so far to destroy all traces of the poison which had been administered to him, as to render any subsequent investigation--presuming such should chance to be made--wholly useless for any purpose of crimination. But why, having done this, he should still preserve so horrible an object,--and to him, it might be presumed, one so particularly horrible,--few seemed willing to attempt to divine. Perhaps, what Shakespeare has said of sorrow, we may best, in this instance, say of conscious guilt:-- “'T was one of those odd things _crime_ often shoots Out of the mind.”