“What matter! Such things are unimportant in a crisis of this sort! Oh, I can’t realize it! The awful circumstances almost make one forget the sadness of death! Poor Sir Herbert! He enjoyed life so much!”
Miss Prall buried her face in her handkerchief, and so was unable to see the quizzical glances given her by Detective Corson.
CHAPTER V
Who Were the Women?
The usual and necessary routine was followed out. The Medical Examiner came and did his part; the undertakers came and did theirs; and at last Bob Moore’s nervous restlessness was calmed, somewhat, by a hope of getting all signs of the tragedy obliterated before the morning’s stir began in the house.
“I’ll wash up these blood stains, myself,” Moore volunteered,—speaking to Corson, after the body had been taken away to a mortuary establishment and the Prall family had gone up to their rooms.
“Oh, I don’t know,” demurred Corson. “It’s evidence, you know——”
“For whom? Can’t you get all the deductions you want, and let me clean up? We can’t have the tenants coming down to a hall like this! If there’s any evidence in these blood spots, make a note of it. You know yourself they can’t be left here all day!”
This was reasonable talk, and Corson agreed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll make pencil marks around where the spots are,—pencil won’t wash off, you know,—and as I can’t see any trace of footprints, I suppose there isn’t anything further to be learned from the condition of the floor.”