He got up deliberately and peered at the pile of clothes with glassy eyes.
“Astonishing how little these girls wear,” I said chattily, “just a handful of silk here and a wisp of silk there and yet they look marvellous.”
“Where is she?” he whispered, clawing at his throat.
“In the morgue by now,” I said, “but, she’ll be back.”
He gave a long sigh and fell down behind the counter. I didn’t blame him. It was a shock for a guy his age.
I left him there and ran round the counter. As I reached the head of the stairs that led to the morgue I saw Doc Ansell come stumbling up.
I ran down and grabbed him, “Doc!” I cried, “am I glad to see you!”
“Take care of him while I dress,” Myra’s voice said, “he’s still a little dazed.”
“Don’t hold that against me,” Doc said, gripping my hand, “I’ve had a very trying experience.”
The morgue attendant still lay behind the counter, but as we passed he sat up and peered at us.