The corpse was gone.
“Snatchum came this afternoon with a hand-truck and a corfin,” explained the keeper. “I was out at the time, and the missis thought it was all right so she let him have the key.”
Hunter and Crass looked blankly at each other.
“Well, this takes the biskit!” said the latter as soon as he could speak.
“I thought you said you had settled everything all right with the old woman?” said Hunter.
“So I did,” replied Crass. “I seen ’er on Friday, and I told ’er to leave it all to me to attend to, and she said she would. I told ’er that Philpot said to me that if ever anything ’appened to ’im I was to take charge of everything for ’er, because I was ’is best friend. And I told ’er we’d do it as cheap as possible.”
“Well, it seems to me as you’ve bungled it somehow,” said Nimrod, gloomily. “I ought to have gone and seen ’er myself, I was afraid you’d make a mess of it,” he added in a wailing tone. “It’s always the same; everything that I don’t attend to myself goes wrong.”
An uncomfortable silence fell. Crass thought that the principal piece of bungling in this affair was Hunter’s failure to secure possession of the Coroner’s certificate after the inquest, but he was afraid to say so.
Outside, the rain was still falling and drove in through the partly open door, causing the atmosphere of the mortuary to be even more than usually cold and damp. The empty coffin had been reared against one of the walls and the marble slab was still stained with blood, for the keeper had not had time to clean it since the body had been removed.
“I can see ’ow it’s been worked,” said Crass at last. “There’s one of the members of the club who works for Snatchum, and ’e’s took it on ’isself to give the order for the funeral; but ’e’s got no right to do it.”