“That will be too late,” I said.  “You are playing a dangerous game.  Dangerous to your own honor and welfare.”

“I owe it to my brother,” he replied, “and I demand that the authorities shall not refuse me assistance.”

My office compelled me to accede to his demands.  Accompanied by the accuser and his witnesses I took my way to Veilbye.  My heart was very heavy, not so much because of any fear that we might find the missing man buried in the garden, but because of the surprise and distress I must cause the rector and my beloved.  As we went on our way I thought over how severely the law would allow me to punish the calumniators.  But alas, Merciful Heavens!  What a terrible discovery was in store for me!

I had wished to have a moment alone with the rector to prepare him for what was coming.  But as I drove through the gate Morten Bruus spurred his horse past me and galloped up to the very door of the house just as the rector opened it.  Bruus cried out in his very face, “People say that you have killed my brother and buried him in your garden.  I am come with the district judge to seek for him.”

The poor rector was so shocked and astounded that he could not find a word to answer.  I sprang from my wagon and addressed him:  “You have now heard the accusation.  I am forced by my office to fulfill this man’s demands.  But your own honor demands that the truth shall be known and the mouth of slander silenced.”

“It is hard enough,” began the rector finally, “for a man in my position to have to clear himself from such a suspicion.  But come with me.  My garden and my entire house are open to you.”

We went through the house to the garden.  On the way we met my betrothed, who was startled at seeing Bruus.  I managed to whisper hastily to her, “Do not be alarmed, dear heart.  Your enemies are going to their own destruction.”  Morten Bruus led the way to the eastern side of the garden near the hedge.  We others followed with the rector’s farm hands, whom he himself had ordered to join us with spades.

The accuser stood and looked about him until we approached.  Then he pointed to one spot.  “This looks as if the earth had been disturbed lately.  Let us begin here.”

“Go to work at once,” commanded the rector angrily.

The men set to work, but they were not eager enough to suit Bruus, who seized a spade himself to fire them on.  A few strokes only sufficed to show that the firm earth of this particular spot had not been touched for many years.  We all rejoiced—­except Bruus—­and the rector was very happy.  He triumphed openly over his accuser, and laughed at him, “Can’t you find anything, you libeler?”

Bruus did not answer.  He pondered for a few moments, then called out, “Jens Larsen, where was it you saw the rector digging?”

Jens Larsen had been standing to one side with his hands folded, watching the work.  At Bruus’s words he aroused himself as if from a dream, looked around him and pointed to a corner of the garden several yards from where we stood.  “I think it was over there.”