It was seven o’clock when the remains of the dead man from Elmwood reached New York City. On the train, Nick yielded to Abbott’s request to accompany them to the crematory.
So reluctantly did the pretended Mr. Ketchum agree to become one of the small funeral party, that Abbott was far from suspecting the fact that his new acquaintance left Elmwood with the determination of seeing the remains in the coffin placed in the furnace, and not lose sight of them until they were reduced to ashes.
It took two hours for the hearse bearing the remains and the carriage in which sat the widow, Dr. Abbott and Nick to cross the city to the Thirty-fourth Street Ferry, reach Long Island City, and make their way to the crematory.
They found the furnace ready for the reception of the body. The manager suggested that the widow had better not remain during the process of incineration, but she insisted in not only remaining, but also in viewing the process.
Much to Dr. Abbott’s surprise, but not to Nick’s, the widow witnessed the cremation without fainting, and without even going into an hysterical condition.
Indeed, her interest in the process was marked and unconcealed. The ceremony seemed to fascinate her, and while her eyes followed every movement of the men who were handling the corpse, Nick’s eyes were watching her just as intently.
Without the twitching of a muscle, she saw the body placed on the reception slab; she saw it covered with the cloth soaked in the acid used for that special purpose; she saw the doors of the retort flung open; she saw the slab containing the body hastily pushed into the incandescent oven; she saw the doors hurriedly closed forever between the world and the mortal form of the man with the long, white beard. Through the place prepared for the purpose, she watched the outlines of the body under the medicated cloth without a shriek of horror—without even so much as a sob she stood there, and saw the covered form on the slab slowly sink, quiver and finally settle down into a thin layer of ashes.
The cremation was finished; the earthly remains of the man in the white beard were nothing but a handful of ashes; the manager of ceremonies gave Abbott a knowing look.
Dr. Abbott drew Mrs. Mackenzie’s arm still closer through his own, and turning, led her away to the waiting carriage. Nick followed, and heard the sigh which at last escaped from Mrs. Mackenzie’s lips.
Dr. Abbott’s construction of the sigh differed materially from that which Nick put upon it.