“Have to ask you to stand back, Perfessor,” said Jarvis. “Len’s appointed me special dep’ty till he comes back, and he says nobody is to lay finger on hide ner hair of the corpse; not even the doc, if he comes.”
“Quite right,” assented the other. “Sheriff Schlager exhibits commendable zeal and discretion.”
“Wonder if he knowed the corpse?” suggested somebody in the crowd.
“Tell you who did, if he didn’t,” said another man.
“Who, then?”
“Elder Iry Dennett. Didn’t none of you hear about his meetin’ up with a strange woman yestiddy evenin’?”
“Shucks! This couldn’t be that woman,” said Jarvis. “How’d she come to be washed ashore from a wreck between last night and this morning?”
“How’d she come to be washed ashore from a wreck, anyway?” countered Sailor Smith. “The’ ain’t been no storm for a week, an’ this body ain’t been dead twenty-four hour.”
“It plumb beats me,” admitted Jarvis.
“Who is this Dennett?” asked Professor Kent.