“Can’t be so sure,” he cautioned. “Corpse might have been washed up. Tide’s on the flood.”
“Well, I’m goin’ to have a look at those two women, anyway,” the plain-clothes man announced. “That place is alive with crooks. I’d like to get something on it that would justify closing it up as a public nuisance, and throwing the whole lot of ’em out in the street. One murder and a happy-dust riot already this summer; and here we are again.”
Then turning to the policeman, he gave his orders.
“Get the wagon and take the body in. Then you had better come right back. We might have some arrests. The Coroner and I’ll investigate while you’re gone.”
He turned away toward the Row, assuming that he would be followed.
“All right, Cap; what do you say?” he called.
The Coroner shook his ponderous figure down into his clothes, turned with evident reluctance, and joined him.
“All right,” he agreed. “But all I need is a couple of witnesses to identify the body at the inquest.”
Across the street a small negro boy detached himself from the base of one of the gateposts and darted through the entrance.
A moment later the white men strode into an absolutely empty square. Their heels made a sharp sound on the flags, and the walls threw a clear echo down upon them.