As Sedgwick gained the earth's level, the moon, sailing from behind a cloud, poured a flood of radiance between the tree trunks. Kent's face, as he raised it from the grave, stretching out his hand for the cord, was ghastly, but his lips smiled encouragement.

"All right! One minute, now, and we're safe."

"Safe!" repeated the other. "With that opened grave! I shall never feel safe again."

From between the earthen walls Kent's voice came, m.u.f.fled. "Safe as a church," he averred, "from the minute that we have the coffin. Take this end of the rope. Got it? Now this one. It's fast, fore and aft. Here I come."

With a leap he clambered out of the excavation. He took one end of the rope from Sedgwick's hand. "All ready to haul?" he inquired in matter-of-fact tones.

"Wait. What are we going to do with this-this _thing_?" demanded his co-laborer. "We can never get it to the car."

A low chuckle sounded from the shrubbery back of them. The resurrectionists stood, stricken.

"An owl," whispered Sedgwick at length.

"No," replied Kent in the same tone. Then, in full voice, and with vivid urgency, "_Haul_!"

Up came the heavy casket, b.u.mping and grating. Even through the rope Sedgwick felt, with horror, the tumbling of the helpless sodden body within. With a powerful effort Kent swung his end up on the mound. The lantern flashed. By its gleam Sedgwick saw Kent striving to force his spade-edge under the coffin lid, to pry it loose. The chuckle sounded again.

"That's enough," said a heavy voice, with a suggestion of mirthful appreciation.

Sheriff Len Schlager stepped from behind a tree. He held a revolver on Kent. Sedgwick made a swift motion and the muzzle swung accurately on him.

"Steady, Frank," warned Kent anxiously.

"I'm steady enough," returned the other. "What a fool I was not to bring a gun."

"Oh, no," contradicted the scientist. "Of what use is my gun? We're in the light, and he is in the shadow."

"So you've got a gun on you, eh?" remarked the sheriff, his chuckle deepening.

"I didn't say so."

"No; but you gave yourself away. Hands up, please. Both of you."

Four hands went up in the air. Kent's face, in the light, was very downcast, but from the far corner of his mouth came the faintest ghost of a whistled melody-all in a minor key. It died away on the night air and the musician spoke in rapid French.

"_Attention! La ruse gagne. Quand lui donnerai le coup de pied, battez-le a terre._"

"What's that gibberish?" demanded Schlager.

"Very well," said Sedgwick quickly, in the tone of one who accepts instructions. "I'll be still enough. Go ahead and do the talking."

"Better both keep still," advised the deceived sheriff. "Anything you say can be used against you at the trial. And the penalty for body-s.n.a.t.c.hing is twenty years in this state."

"Yes; but what const.i.tutes body-s.n.a.t.c.hing?" murmured Kent.

"You do, I guess," retorted the humorous sheriff. "Steady with those hands. Which pocket, please, Professor?"

"Right-hand coat, if you want my money," answered the scientist sullenly.

"Nothing like that," laughed the officer. "Your gun will do, at present."

"I haven't got any gun."

"I heard you say it! Remember, mine is pointed at your stomach."

"Correct place," approved Kent, quietly shifting his weight to his left foot. "It's the seat of human courage. Well!" as Schlager tapped pocket after pocket, without result, "you can't say I didn't warn you. _Now_, Frank!"

With the word there was a sharp spat as the heel of Kent's heavy boot, flying up in the _coup de pied_ of his own devising, caught the sheriff full on the wrist breaking the bones, and sending the revolver a-spin into the darkness. As instantly Sedgwick struck, swinging full-armed, and Schlager went down, half-stunned.

"Pin him, Frank," ordered Kent.

But Sedgwick needed no directions, now that resolute action was the order of the moment. His elbow was already pressed into the sheriff's bull neck. Schlager lay still, moaning a little.

"Good work, my boy," approved Kent, who had retrieved the revolver.

"Who clubbed me?" groaned the fallen man. "I didn't see no third feller.

And what good's it going to do you, anyway? There you are, and there's the robbed grave. Exaggerated by a.s.sault on an officer of the law," he added technically.

"That is right, too, Kent," added Sedgwick with shaking voice. "Whatever we do, I don't see but what we are disgraced and ruined."

"Unless," suggested Kent with mild-toned malice, "we rid ourselves of the only witness to the affair."

A little gasp issued from the thick lips of Len Schlager. But he spoke with courage, and not without a certain dignity. "You got me," he admitted quietly. "If it's killin'-why, I guess it's as good a way to go as any. An officer in the discharge of his duty."

"Not so sure about the duty, Schlager," said Kent with a change of tone.

"But your life is safe enough, in any event. Pity you're such a grafter, for you've got your decent points. Let him up, Sedgwick."

Relieved of his a.s.sailant's weight, Schlager undertook to rise, set his hand on the ground, and collapsed with a groan.

"Too bad about that wrist," said Kent. "I'll take you back in my car to have it looked after as soon as we've finished here."

"I s'pose you know I'll have to arrest you, just the same."

"Don't bluff," retorted the other carelessly. "It wastes time. Steady!

Here comes the rest of the party."

Across the moonlit lawn moved briskly the spare alert figure of the owner of Hedgerow House. His hand grasped a long-barreled pistol. He made straight for the grove of graves. Within five yards of the willows he stopped, because a voice from behind one of them had suggested to him that he do so.

"I also am armed," the voice added.

Hesitancy flickered in Mr. Blair's face for a brief moment. Then, with set jaw, he came on.

"Two men of courage to deal with in a single night. That's all out of proportion," commented the voice with a slight laugh. "Mr. Blair; I really should dislike shooting you."

"Who are you?" demanded Mr. Blair.

"Chester Kent."