“It’s my business to be here,” said Nick coldly. “I am a detective, and my name is Nicholas Carter.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the undertaker, and his eyes bulged. He did not seem able to take them off the famous man, of whom he had heard so much. “Oh!” he added, after a pause.
“If that makes a difference,” said Nick, “you may show us the body.”
“Certainly; anything you want, Mr. Carter. Only too proud.”
He led the way to a back room, and for a minute or two Nick and Patsy stood there studying the still, cold form.
“Can I do anything more for you?” asked the undertaker, as they turned away.
“No, thank you.”
“I suppose you’ll see the clergyman’s friend, won’t you?”
“Do you mean Mr. Folsom?”
“Yes, sir. The hotel people, you see, Mr. Carter, told me to take charge of the body, and I supposed it would be a kind of charity case, as, of course, the hotel people had no interest in the unfortunate man. But if Mr. Folsom was his friend, perhaps he’d like to order a better casket, don’t you see. If——”