“Yes, and for this reason. You have now, as you cannot help having, a disagreeable feeling, that you may find that one coffin is untenanted. Now, if you do find it so, you scarcely make matters worse, by an additional confirmation of what already amounts to a strong supposition, and one which is likely to grow stronger by time.” “True, most true.” “On the contrary, if you find indubitable proofs that your ancestor has slept soundly in the tomb, and gone the way of all flesh, you will find yourselves much calmer, and that an attack is made upon the train of events which at present all run one way.” “That is precisely the argument I was using to George,” said Henry, “a few moments since.” “Then let us go,” said George, “by all means.” “It is so decided then,” said Henry. “Let it be done with caution,” replied Mr. Marchdale. “If any one can manage it, of course we can.” “Why should it not be done secretly and at night? Of course we lose nothing by making a night visit to a vault into which daylight, I presume, cannot penetrate.” “Certainly not.” “Then let it be at night.” “But we shall surely require the concurrence of some of the church authorities.” “Nay, I do not see that,” interposed Mr. Marchdale. “It is the vault actually vested in and belonging to yourself you wish to visit, and, therefore, you have right to visit it in any manner or at any time that may be most suitable to yourself.” “But detection in a clandestine visit might produce unpleasant consequences.” “The church is old,” said George, “and we could easily find means of getting into it. There is only one objection that I see, just now, and that is, that we leave Flora unprotected.” “We do, indeed,” said Henry. “I did not think of that.” “It must be put to herself, as a matter for her own consideration,” said Mr. Marchdale, “if she will consider herself sufficiently safe with the company and protection of your mother only.” “It would be a pity were we not all three present at the examination of the coffin,” remarked Henry. “It would, indeed. There is ample evidence,” said Mr. Marchdale, “but we must not give Flora a night of sleeplessness and uneasiness on that account, and the more particularly as we cannot well explain to her where we are going, or upon what errand.” “Certainly not.” “Let us talk to her, then, about it,” said Henry. “I confess I am much bent upon the plan, and fain would not forego it; neither should I like other than that we three should go together.” “If you determine, then, upon it,” said Marchdale, “we will go to-night; and, from your acquaintance with the place, doubtless you will be able to decide what tools are necessary.” “There is a trap-door at the bottom of the pew,” said Henry; “it is not only secured down, but it is locked likewise, and I have the key in my possession.” “Indeed!” “Yes; immediately beneath is a short flight of stone steps, which conduct at once into the vault.” “Is it large?”