“A body. What do you mean?”
“Why, what I say; surely you’ve cut up enough of ’em to know ’em by name; a dead body, doctor,—a subject.”
The doctor smiled.
“That’s a strange request, Ned. You’re not going to turn to my profession as a last resort, I hope?”
“No, not exactly; but a friend of mine wants a body—that’s all, and offers to pay me a good round sum if I get one for him.”
“Is your friend a medical man?” asked the doctor.
“N–no, he’s not. In fact, he has more to do with spirits than bodies; but he wants one of the latter—and I said I’d try to get him one—so, if you can help me, do so, like a good fellow. My friend is particular, however; he wants a man one, above six feet, thin and sallow, and with long black hair.”
“You don’t suppose I keep a stock of assorted subjects on hand, do you?” said the doctor. “I fear it won’t be easy to get what you want. Do you know what your friend intends to do with it?”
“Not I, and I don’t care,” said Ned, pouring out another cup of coffee. “What does a body cost?”
“Between two and three pounds,” replied the doctor.