“And the absolute destruction of the body, so that no further medical examination could be made if the need arose?” Ferguson smiled skeptically. “Now, honestly, did you really think such a request would get by?”
John Hale controlled his temper with an effort. “An autopsy had already been held and the cause of Austin’s death determined,” he pointed out, and then, addressing his silent companion, “What was McLane’s exact definition, Frank?”
Latimer took out his notebook and turned its pages until he came to an entry.
“Dr. McLane stated that Austin died as the result of a chest wound, and that death was instantaneous, as the weapon penetrated to the heart, or words to that effect,” he added and replaced the notebook in his pocket, as John Hale again addressed the detective.
“You see, Ferguson, the autopsy told the cause of death; therefore my request was not only natural, believing, as I do, in cremation, but reasonable.” He leaned back and regarded the detective with candid eyes. “That it was not granted was the unreasonable feature of the case.”
Ferguson was slow in replying. “That you were advised to have the body placed in the receiving vault at the cemetery shows how your request was regarded by the authorities, Mr. Hale,” he remarked, and Latimer broke into the discussion.
“Come, come,” he remonstrated. “You go too far in your zeal, Ferguson. The ground is hard frozen and no graves can be dug; therefore all bodies are being placed in the receiving vaults until the weather moderates.”
“Maybe so,” Ferguson’s smile was non-committal. “But—your request came very pat, Mr. Hale, and—it didn’t make a hit with Headquarters.”
John Hale straightened his powerful figure. “I don’t care a damn how it hit Headquarters!” he declared, and his voice rose in angry accents. “If this is all you wish with me, we may as well cut short our interview; my time is valuable.”
“And so is mine, sir,” retorted Ferguson with equal heat. “How much longer am I going to be prevented from seeing your brother, Mr. Robert Hale?”