The night was gloomy and starless, and not a sound was heard—not even a withered leaf whirled by the passing wind—as we left the horse and trap under the shadow of a high hedge and vaulted over the low churchyard wall. My heart beat quickly, all the more so that Tom's brandy had been pretty potent.
The mouldering tombstones, half sunk in the long reedy grass, and tossing nettles, studded all the mournful place. God's acre seemed very solemn that night. The lonely old church, old as the days of the third Edward, half hidden by ivy, and spotted by lichens, raised its square Norman tower against the vapour-laden sky, and quaint heads and demon faces were peeping out of the mouldings and gargoyles upon us.
"You know the grave, Phosfat?" said I.
"Yes—hush—this must be it. There is no other new one in the ground," stuttered Tom, who had imbibed too much.
"This seems the burial place of wealthy people," said Bob Asher. "The old dame must have had money and to spare."
"By Jove, it is open!" said I, in a low whisper.
"It has not been quite filled up—boards are over it; only some branches and soil thrown in. How is this?"
"The bricking of the vault has been postponed till to-morrow," said Bob Asher, shovelling out the débris. "We have no time to lose, Fred. Shall we break open, the top of the coffin, and use the rope to pull up the subject by the neck? That was the way with Knox's fellows in Edinburgh."
"Nay," said I, "by such a process the spinal column may be disturbed; and that won't suit the professor's purpose."
"Look round, and listen well; here goes then," and half turning the coffin on its side, Bob and Tom, by inserting their shovels under the lid, burst it up with a hideous jarring sound, and then the ghostly tenant was seen, enveloped in a shroud of white from head to foot; and even to us, prepared as we were for it, that figure had something horrible in its angular rigidity. Muffling it in the dark cloak, I cast it over my shoulder, and deposited it in a sitting position—the rigor mortis had passed away apparently—between the seat and splash-board of the trap. My companions meanwhile rearranged the grave and coffin as we had found them. Voices and lights now scared us. Phosfat was so tipsy that I had to leave Bob Asher to take care of him; and casting our shovels and rope into a clover field, I drove at a break-neck pace towards London, intensely anxious to reach the professor's house before day should dawn, lest the police or a passer-by might detect something weird in the person who was my companion.