“Can’t identify her now, her face is a sight,” said the warden again. “That acid ate clear through to the bone; she must have been deluged with it.”
“Nevertheless, I shall send for him,” said the physician slowly, and in a very few minutes he had sent the message.
After he had left the building the warden received a communication. It was from the Chief of Police, giving some further information about the woman.
“Hem! Looks as if she did have friends after all,” he growled crossly, then he, too, wrote a message and had it wired to the city.
At ten o’clock the next morning two more deaths had been reported, and as sometimes happen, a blunder resulted.
At eleven o’clock there were two pine coffins lying out on the very edge of the upper dock, both bearing tags and stenciled numbers.
At that hour Marion Marlowe was standing with the Superintendent of Nurses, listening to some instructions of a private nature.
“I would go myself if I had time,” the superintendent was saying, “for I would like to see Dr. Miller and tell him about it, but you can be spared and I can’t, Miss Marlowe, and I’ll consider it a favor if you will do my errand.”
“I am only too glad to be of service to you, madam,” was Marion’s answer, “and I shall enjoy the sail up the river, too, as I have never been farther than Blackwell’s Island.”
“Well, Dr. Miller is at the Homeopathic Hospital on Ward’s Island,” was the reply, “and you have only to tell him exactly what I have told you.”