"It is a German Bible," he continued, and then Arthur took it quickly from him as if it had been a long-lost friend, turning the worn pages rapidly, but failing to discover the marked passage and the message for some one.
The lock of hair and the faded flowers caught his attention, and his breath came hard and pantingly, as for a moment he held the little golden tress in his hand.
"This must be her child's hair. You know I told you there was a little girl found with her. Would you like to see her?" Frank said.
"No, no!" Arthur answered hastily. "Let her stay where she is, I don't like children, as a rule. You know I can't abide the noise yours sometimes make."
He was leaving the room with the Bible in his hand, but Frank could not suffer that, and he said:
"I suppose all these things must stay here till the coroner sees them; so I will put the Bible where I found it."
Arthur gave it up readily enough, and then as he reached the door, looked back, and said:
"If forty coroners and undertakers come on this business, don't bother me any more. My head buzzes like a bee-hive. See that everything is done decently for the poor woman, and don't let the town bury her. Do it yourself, and send the bill to me. There is room enough in the Tracy lot; put her in a corner."
"Yes," Frank answered, standing in the open door and watching him as he went slowly down the long hall, and until he heard him going up stairs.
Then locking the door, which shut him in with the dead, he took the photograph from his pocket and examined it minutely, feeling no shadow of doubt in his heart that it was Gretchen—if the picture in the window was like her. It was the same face, the same sweet mouth and sunny blue eyes, with curls of reddish-golden hair shading the low brow. The dress was different and more in accordance with that of a girl who belonged to the middle class, but this counted for nothing, and Frank felt himself a thief, and a liar, and a murderer as he stood looking at the lovely face and debating what he should do.