Officer 666 tipped his cap with military salute and set out. Turning the corner into Essex street, he met plain-clothes man Tim Feeney, who stopped him and asked him where he was bound. Michael Phelan explained and then said:
“Tim, if you don’t mind, will you give me a tip? What do I do when I get up to that flat, and how long will I have to wait?”
“You’ll have to wait, Mike,” replied Tim Feeney, “till the Coroner gets good and ready to come. When you get to the flat don’t knock; walk right in. Then sit down by the bed and wait. Be sure you keep the door shut and let no soul in till the Coroner arrives.”
“It’ll be powerful hot and I’m perishing o’ thirst now,” said Mike.
“Take off your coat,” said Tim, “and send a kid for a can of beer. When you hear the Coroner comin’ slip the can under the bed.”
Tim Feeney went on his way with his hand over his mouth.
Patrolman Phelan had missed the twinkle in Tim Feeney’s eye and a few minutes later found him sitting beside a bed with his coat off and a foaming can on the floor by his chair. On his way up the steep, narrow staircases he had met a boy and sent him for the liquid refreshment. He had instructed the lad where to deliver the beer and had gone quietly in to his unpleasant vigil.
The door he opened led directly into the bedroom. He had glanced once at the bed and then looked away with a shudder. Perspiration fairly cascaded down his flaming cheeks as he tiptoed to a chair and placed it beside the bed. He placed his chair at a slight angle away from the bed and then fixed his eyes on the opposite wall. When he heard the tread of the boy in the hall he made a pussy-footed dash for the door, took in the growler, shut the boy out and buried his face in the froth. He was in better heart, but still mighty uneasy when he wiped his mouth on the back of his fist.
Somewhere in the flat a clock ticked dismally. Through two small open windows puffed superheated 41 gusts of air. The muffled clamor of many voices in strange tongues sifted through the windows and walls, but served only to increase the awful stillness in the room. Despite his efforts to the contrary, Phelan stole a glance at the bed, then looked away while his heart stopped beating. There was a naked foot where he had seen only a sheet before.