“Serves me right. The idea of a loose character like me tryin’ to edge in on the law! Ain’t no hard feelin’s on my part, Aaron.”
The old man ignored this sally.
“Now, Vinnie, you tell us how you found this man,” he began in a more or less official manner.
Vin explained how he had come up to close the windows, and so forth.
“You hain’t touched nothin’?”
“No, I call downstairs right away I see he ees daid.”
“Humph! Nobody here knows this man, either, eh?” He cleared his throat importantly. “Well, gentlemen, there don’t seem to be no use wastin’ any more time. This man came here intendin’ to kill himself. It ain’t accidental-like for a man to go round without some mark of identification on him. He cut off every sign by which he might be traced. He’s got his watch and his money; so it wa’n’t robbery. And you all see where the powder burned his forehead. The gun’s there on the floor, just where he dropped it, too. Guess that makes the answer plain. Best you bring in the usual verdict; death by his own hand, this day and date. That agreed?”
A muttered chorus of assenting grunts greeted him as he began making out the death certificate.
“Say, Aaron,” Johnny interrupted. “There’s somethin’ under the bed. The man’s hat, I reckon.”
Aaron glanced at him over the rims of his glasses.