"Don't let them bury me again. They never buried me. I've not been dead! I tell you I've not been dead!" He mouthed horribly. "I'm alive! Can't you see I'm alive?"
He broke down and covered his face. Jenkins sank on the heap of earth.
"I saw you, Mr. Silas, in that box. And I saw you on the bed. Miss Katherine and I found you. We had to break the door. You looked so peaceful we thought you were asleep. But when we touched you you were cold."
"No, no, no," Blackburn grimaced. "I wasn't cold. I couldn't have been."
"There's no question," Bobby said hoarsely.
"No question," Robinson repeated.
Katherine shrank from her uncle as he had shrunk from her in the library the night of the murder.
"What do you make of it?" the district attorney asked Rawlins.
The detective, who had remained crouched at the side of the grave, arose, brushing the dirt from his hands, shaking his head.
"What is one to make of it, sir?"