"Come on," said Henry. "Be careful; there is nothing beneath the window, and the depth is about two feet."
Thus guided, they all got fairly into the sacred edifice, and then Henry closed the window, and fastened it on the inside as he said,—
"We have nothing to do now but to set to work opening a way into the vault, and I trust that Heaven will pardon me for thus desecrating the tomb of my ancestors, from a consideration of the object I have in view by so doing."
"It does seem wrong thus to tamper with the secrets of the tomb," remarked Mr. Marchdale.
"The secrets of a fiddlestick!" said the doctor. "What secrets has the tomb I wonder?"
"Well, but, my dear sir—"
"Nay, my dear sir, it is high time that death, which is, then, the inevitable fate of us all, should be regarded with more philosophic eyes than it is. There are no secrets in the tomb but such as may well be endeavoured to be kept secret."
"What do you mean?"
"There is one which very probably we shall find unpleasantly revealed."
"Which is that?"