“Funny thing,” said Newberry, “the instructions your uncle left.”
“Instructions? What instructions?” I asked.
“Why, didn’t you know? But of course you didn’t. He left written instructions with Mrs. Rhodes that in case of his sudden death his body was not to be embalmed, packed in ice, or preserved in any way, and that it was not to be buried under any consideration, until decomposition had set in. He also ordered that no autopsy should be held until it had been definitely decided that putrefaction had taken place.”
“Have these instructions been carried out?” I asked.
“To the letter,” he replied.
“And how long will it take for putrefaction to set in?”
“The doctors say it will probably be noticed in twenty-four hours.”
I reflected on this strange order of my uncle’s. It seemed to me that he must have feared being buried alive, or something of the sort, and I recalled several instances, of which I had heard, where bodies, upon being exhumed, were found turned over in their coffins, while others had apparently torn their hair and clawed the lid in their efforts to escape from a living tomb.
I was beginning to feel sleepy again and had just started to doze, when Newberry grasped my arm.
“Look!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the body.