Dr Thorndyke Intervenes by R. Austin Freeman

The last resting-place--real or fictitious--of the late Josiah Pippet was a somewhat dismal spot. Not that it mattered. The landscape qualities of a burial ground cannot be of much concern to the inmates. And in Josiah's day, when he came here prospecting for an eligible freehold, the aspect of the place was doubtless very different. Then it must have been a rural burial ground adjoining some vanished hamlet (it was designated on the Ordnance map "Garwell Burial Ground") hard by the Romford Turnpike Road. Now, it was a little grimy wilderness, fronting on a narrow street, flanked by decaying stable-yards and cart sheds, and apparently utterly neglected and forgotten of men. The only means of access was a rusty iron gate, set in the six-foot enclosing wall, and at that gate Thorndyke and I arrived a full half-hour before the appointed time, having walked thither from the nearest station--Maryland Point on the Great Eastern. But early as we were, we were not early enough from Thorndyke's point of view; for, not only did we find the rusty gate unlocked (with a brand-new key sticking out of the corroded lock), but, when we lifted the decayed latch and entered, we discovered two men in the very act of wrenching open the door of a vault.

"This," said Thorndyke, regarding the two men with a disapproving eye, "ought not to have been done until everyone was present and the unopened door had been inspected."