"How—how pale he is," said Betty. "Poor Rooney was so jolly and red-faced, but his skin is like chalk."
"And he's shrunken, too. It seems there's no blood left in his veins," said her father.
Marable, who had been called also, came in then and aided in the examination. He said good morning to Betty and her father, and then went to bend over Rooney's body.
"See the look of abject terror on his face," Betty heard Marable say to her father as the two examined the corpse. "He must have been very much afraid of whoever killed him."
"They beat him up frightfully," said Young. "There must have been several of the assassins; it would take more than one man to do such damage."
"Yes. His ribs are crushed in—see, this gash, Professor, would be enough to cause death without any of the other wounds."
Betty Young could not take her eyes from the ghastly sight. She steeled herself to bear it, and prayed for strength that she should not faint and cause her father trouble. She could see the two men examining a large blistered area under the corpse's armpit, in the center of which was a sharp vertical slit which had without doubt punctured the artery near the surface of the axilla. Perhaps it had pierced even to the heart.
"Bloodless," exclaimed Marable, noticing the same thing as her father had spoken of. "It is as if the blood had been pumped out of his body!"
"Yes, I think it has drained out."