Oh, why had those thoughtless gravediggers insisted on placing Miss Everglot's grave in such a way so that it would be in plain view of passersby? Victor had nearly gone mad when he had seen it; fortunately Emily had been with him and was able to restrain him, but not before he had commenced unearthing Victoria's coffin, his slender fingers tearing at cold, hard earth until they were badly torn and blood fell from them in large, crimson drops. How he had fought her when she had tried to force him back—but he could not bring himself to actually harm her. This had played against him and though Emily gave up attempting to take him away from the grave, she did manage to pinion him against the ground and thus end his desperate digging.

She would never forget the despair that clouded his eyes as he writhed beneath her, sobbing as he gasped for breath, wild and panicked whilst trying to comprehend what now seemed to be the indisputable truth. Victor's parents had come across them and inquired whether or not Emily wished him to be "taken off her hands," as his father had put it, yet she declined this offer when she caught sight of the individual who Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort would have had carry Victor off. He was a muscular fellow and drove the Van Dort's carriage for them; Emily had noticed his rough fashion of driving the old horse about and found that she wouldn't trust him to handle such a situation as this, for his callous nature would surely push him, when resisted, to violent exertions. At this point, Emily reasoned, Victor was far too high-strung to endure such treatment. No, she would remain where she was, seated comfortably on top of her captive, until his insanity diminished.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and as night fell Victor—who had still behaved in a most unstable manner and so had not been allowed to rise—abruptly ceased his feeble struggling and lay still. For a moment Emily wondered if he had finally come to his senses; then she noticed that his gaze was fixed upon Victoria's gravestone. Rolling her eyes and sighing deeply, she rested her elbows on Victor's chest and then supported her head in her hands, shutting her eyes and trying to sleep. Victor winced but made no protest, his eyelids drooping until he, too, seemed to doze. Emily opened one eye, watching him with some suspicion. His ragged breathing gradually became more regular and his head fell to one side; Emily rose and stretched gracefully, allowing herself a single yawn as she did so.

Victor wasted no time. Emily had turned way from him and she was certainly unaware that he was really wide awake; perhaps he could quietly uncover the coffin...

It was a hopeless dream. No sooner did he press his fingers against the ground than overwhelming pain shot through him, so badly wounded were they; and though he tried with all his little remaining strength to prevent himself from crying out, a faint moan escaped him and he knew that all was over.

Emily spun around. "Why, you little sneak!" she cried, horrified. She caught hold of his arm with unnecessary roughness, but perhaps she had expected a reaction far different from the one she received. Victor gazed up at her and said, his voice no more than a whisper,

"You were at the funeral."

"Yes," Emily said. Something in his tone caused her to release him, though she did so with unmistakable wariness. "I was—Maggot went, too. Victoria was a nice girl; it was the least I could do."

Victor would not meet her gaze. "That was kind of you," he said.

"Hmm." Emily sighed and pressed a hand against her forehead. "Am I tired! How long have we been in this cemetery?"

Victor made no response to her question. "Emily?" he pleaded softly, "won't you help me...dig her up?"

Emily gasped, her eyes round. "You can't be serious," she said. "Assist you in—in disinterment?"

Victor dragged himself to his knees. "Ah," he said with a tired smile, "surely you're not afraid of a corpse, Emily."

"Of course not! But...I don't want to encourage you in this..."

Victor rose unsteadily. "At this point," he said, "I think I've already lost my mind. There's no reason for you to try and save it; it's simply gone."

"Doesn't sound like it," Emily said, her eyes sparkling, "why, you're still coming up with pretty speeches, aren't you? Have to have your old mind for that!"

Victor was silent for a moment. "There must be some way," he reasoned aloud, "to make this worthwhile for you. Perhaps I can pay you back somehow."

Emily frowned. "Will you drop this whole matter if I simply say that I won't help you?"

"Of course not. I'll merely have to rob this grave myself; but that's not too difficult."

The corpse bride took his hands in hers with the utmost care. "You've ruined your fingers," she said. "I rather think that that puts a stop to your using them for most anything. You won't even be able to use a shovel, for goodness' sake! If only you hadn't reacted so badly to seeing this..."

Victor's hands trembled and he returned, "Perhaps it does seem as though my working alone is impossible. Quite the contrary; my fingers will obey me whether they suffer for doing so or not. If I wish them to," he went on in a quieter tone, searching her face, "they'll dig this grave up, shovel or no shovel...help or...no help."

Emily smiled. "You've a good heart, Victor," she said, glancing at Victoria's grave, "despite its being a stubborn one. I will help you, if you promise me that after you see Victoria you'll give her up for dead at last."

Silence reigned for a few fleeting moments as Victor mulled over this condition, and the corpse bride laughed.

"Come on, silly; you'll see her again, whether she's dead or not. What's so hard about admitting that she's gone on to a better place?"

Her carefree tone eased Victor's anxiety somewhat and he said shakily, "Yes...yes, I promise."

She narrowed her eyes. "Manipulative wretch, are you as sincere as I hope you are?"

He couldn't help one weak laugh as he pressed a hand over his racing heart. "I swear I'll not deceive you this time, dear Emily," he said, managing a timid bow.

"Well, then!" she said. "Shift yourself; I want to get this over with."

With Emily's help it seemed that time flew, and in a matter of seconds the grave had been unearthed; yet there was no coffin to reward them. This was a grim affair; neither of them could believe that anyone would wish to rob the grave of a girl who had been given no valuables with which to be buried, and why would the robber take the corpse? So befuddling was this new occurrence that Emily couldn't even summon the energy to halt Victor as he crawled about Victoria's grave on his hands and knees in a manner that reminded her of a confused hound.

"Victor," she began a bit sluggishly—but even as she opened her mouth, the ground gave way beneath him and he vanished from view. Her calls were in vain, and the tunnel she could now see which he must have tumbled down was too long for her to see its end. There was nothing for it; she was going down.