"I think it anything but ridiculous," said Godfrey quietly. "But perhaps it's just as well. A revolver is a dangerous thing for any man who isn't used to it to carry in his pocket. Now, move as silently as you can, and no talking--not even a whisper." I have never quite understood the uncontrollable impulse which urged me forward. It was, I think, a feverish desire to know the truth, to solve this mystery once and for all; but over that, and stronger than that, was the longing to exonerate Miss Lawrence--to prove Godfrey in the wrong. I did not stop then to reason about it; my brain was in a whirl; but I somehow got my shoes off, and caught up with Godfrey just as he cautiously tried the door. It was unlocked; we slipped inside and closed it softly. I fancy that I felt at that moment much as a thief feels who, having entered a house, pauses to find if he has been detected, and to determine the direction of his prey. But Godfrey seemed quite self-possessed. He drew from his pocket a small electric torch, and sent a slender beam of light quivering about the room. We were in a sort of entry between kitchen and dining-room; the kitchen door stood ajar; we opened it and passed through. Again I caught a faint gleam of light; Godfrey crossed the room softly, entered what I saw afterwards to be a pantry, and opened another door. In an instant, a broad stream of yellow light poured through. It was the door to the cellar. Godfrey lay down cautiously upon the floor, and slowly dropped his head through the opening. I was close behind him, and I caught a sound which sent a sudden chill through me--a sound of shovelling. There was no mistaking it--Godfrey had guessed right. I could hear the shovel scrape against the dirt; I could hear the dirt dropped into a hole---- Godfrey rose to his feet, motioned me to follow, and crept softly down the stair. Not until I was half-way down, did I perceive that the noise came not from the main cellar, but from a sort of recess concealed from us by an angle of the wall. I could see a head bobbing up and down, with the regular rhythm of the shovel, a head which I recognised as belonging to the elder Miss Kingdon. We crept forward and gained the shelter of the other wall, when there came a sudden sound of footsteps overhead. In an instant the light was extinguished, and I heard the woman cross the cellar and go softly up the stairs. Then a door opened and shut heavily, a voice called her name, and the steps went on into the front part of the house. My face was damp with perspiration, as Godfrey seized my hand and pulled me forward, shooting a ray of light before us, round the wall into the recess where Miss Kingdon had been labouring--only to pause, shudderingly, at the brink of a--grave?