Peeler's eyes were fixed in a tense stare on a small bundle she carried. His voice was a queer muffled tremor as he slowly said:
"Unwrap the thing and show it to him."
The woman looked at the editor and smiled contemptuously, showing two rows of perfect teeth, as she slowly drew the brown wrapper from a strange object which she placed on the desk.
The editor picked the thing up, looked at it and laughed.
It was a tiny pine coffin about six inches long and two inches wide. A piece of glass was fitted into the upper half of the lid and beneath the glass was placed a single tube rose whose peculiar penetrating odor already filled the room.
Peeler mopped the perspiration from his brow.
"Now, what do you think of that?" he asked in an awed whisper.
In spite of an effort at self-control, Norton broke into a peal of laughter:
"It does look serious, doesn't it?"
"Serious ain't no word for it, sir! It not only looks like death, but I'm damned if it don't smell like it—smell it!"