The four men lifted it. Then all was still. I think that each was reluctant to be the first to see what might be seen. Mr. Howarth, indeed, drew back. I felt that the arm on which I leaned was trembling. That made me tremble too. The two doctors advanced together. They leaned over the open coffin. Sir Gregory spoke first.
'That is the Marquis of Twickenham.'
Then Dr. Clinton:
'Then the Marquis of Twickenham and Mr. Montagu Babbacombe were one; for that certainly is Mr. Babbacombe.'
When he said that, if it had not been for the young gentleman I believe I should have fallen. I could neither move nor speak. Mr. FitzHoward joined them.
'That's Babbacombe right enough; but he looks as if he were alive.'
'Alive? Alive?' gasped Mr. Howarth. 'Pray God--that he is alive.'
'He certainly is in a wonderful state of preservation,' murmured Dr. Gregory. 'Altogether beyond anything I expected to find.'
My strength returning, I tried to go forward. But the young gentleman stopped me.
'Be careful! Haven't you heard enough?'