The street lamp in the vicinity lit up the front of the dingy house, therefore fearing observation from any of the servants next door, we moved noiselessly in the shadow of the bushes along the side of the premises, past a small conservatory, many panes of glass of which were broken, and so into the darkness of the small back garden, which seemed knee-deep in grass and weeds, and which, from its position, hemmed in by blank walls, could not be overlooked save from the house itself. All was silence. The scene was weird in the extreme. In the distance could be heard the faint hum of the never-ceasing traffic of London. Above, showed the dark windows of that grim old place wherein I had so nearly lost my life. "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 ejaculation 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 hoarsely, "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.