be closed and not opened again."
"Whose wish was this?"
"The widow's. You may well understand that this lichen greatly disfigured Mr. Quadrant, and that he was extremely sensitive about it. So much so that he had not allowed any one to see him for many weeks prior to his death. It was in deference to this that the widow expressed the wish that no one but the immediate family should see him in his coffin. For this reason also she stipulated that the coffin should be burned with the body."
"You say this was decided on the night before the funeral?"
"Yes. To be accurate, about five o'clock in the afternoon, though at this season and in the closed rooms the lamps were already lighted."
"Was this known to many persons? That is, that the coffin was not again to be opened?"
"It was known of course to the two brothers, and also to the undertaker and two of his assistants who were present."
"The undertaker himself closed the casket, I presume?"
"Yes. He was closing it as I escorted the widow back to her own room."
"Did the brothers leave the room with you?"
"I think so. Yes, I am sure of it."
"So that the body was left with the undertaker and his men, after they knew that it was not to be opened again?"
"Yes."
"Did these men leave before you did?"
"No. I left almost immediately after taking the widow to her own room and seeing her comfortably lying down, apparently recovered from the hysterical spell which I had been summoned to check. You know, of course, that the Quadrant residence is but a block from here."
"There is one more point, Doctor. Of what disease did Mr. Quadrant die?"
"My diagnosis was what in common parlance I may call cancer of the stomach. This, of course, I only knew from the symptoms. That is to say, there had been no operation, as the patient was strenuously opposed to such a procedure. He repeatedly said to me, 'I would rather die than be cut up.' A strange prejudice in these days of successful surgery, when the knife in skilful hands promises so much more than medication."
"Still these symptoms were sufficient in your own mind to satisfy you that your diagnosis was accurate?"
"I can only say in reply that I have frequently in the presence of similar symptoms performed an operation, and always with the same result. The cancer was always present."
"Now the coroner's autopsy on the body at the Morgue is said to have shown that death was due to disease. Do you know what they discovered?"
"Dr. Elliot told me that it was cancer of the stomach."
"Why, then, the identification seems absolute?"
"So it seems. Yes."
Mr. Barnes next called at the home of the Quadrants, and was informed that both of the gentlemen were out. With some hesitation he sent a brief note in to the widow, explaining his purpose and asking for an interview. To his gratification his request was granted, and he was shown up to that lady's reception-room.
"I fear, madame," said he, "that my visit may seem an intrusion, but I take the deepest sort of interest in this sad affair of your husband, and I would much appreciate having your permission and authority to investigate it, with the hope of discovering the wrong-doers."
"I see by your note," said Mrs. Quadrant in a low, sad voice, "that you are a detective, but not connected with the police. That is why I have decided to see you. I have declined to see the regular detective sent here by the police, though my husband's brothers, I believe, have answered all his questions. But as for myself, I felt that I could not place this matter in the hands of men whom my husband always distrusted. Perhaps his prejudice was due to his politics, but he frequently declared that our police force was corrupt. Thus you understand why I am really glad that you have called, for I am anxious, nay, determined, to discover if possible who it was who has done me this grievous wrong. To think that my poor husband was there in the river, when I thought that his body had been duly disposed of. It is horrible, horrible!"
"It is indeed horrible, madame," said Mr. Barnes sympathizingly. "But we must find the guilty person or persons and bring them to justice."
"Yes! That is what I wish. That is what I am ready to pay any sum to accomplish. You must not consider you are working, as you courteously offer, merely to satisfy your professional interest in a mysterious case. I wish you to undertake this as my special agent."
"As you please, madame, but in that case I must make one condition. I would ask that you tell this to no one unless I find it necessary. At present I think I can do better if I am merely regarded as a busybody detective attracted by an odd case."
"Why, certainly, no one need know. Now tell me what you think of this matter."
"Well, it is rather early to formulate an opinion. An opinion is dangerous. One is so apt to endeavor to prove himself right, whereas he ought merely to seek out the truth. But if you have any opinion, it is necessary for me to know it. Therefore I must answer you by asking the very question which you have asked me. What do you think?"
"I think that some one took the body of my husband from the coffin, and that we burned an empty casket. But to guess what motive there could be for such an act would be beyond my mental abilities. I have thought about it till my head has ached, but I can find no reason for such an unreasonable act."
"Let me then suggest one to you, and then perhaps your opinion may be more useful. Suppose that some person, some one who had the opportunity, had committed a murder. By removing the body of your husband, and replacing it with that of his victim, the evidences of his own crime would be concealed. The discovery of your husband's body, even if identified, as it has been, could lead to little else than mystification, for the criminal well knew that the autopsy would show natural causes of death."
"But what a terrible solution this is which you suggest! Why, no one had access to the coffin except the undertaker and his two men!"
"You naturally omit your two brothers, but a detective cannot make such discrimination."
"Why, of course I do not count them, for certainly neither of them could be guilty of such a crime as you suggest. It is true that Amos – but that is of no consequence."
"Who is Amos?" asked Mr. Barnes, aroused by the fact that Mrs. Quadrant had left her remark unfinished.
"Amos is one of my brothers – my husband's brothers, I mean. Amos Quadrant was next in age, and Mark the youngest of the three. But, Mr. Barnes, how could one of the undertakers have made this exchange which you suggest? Certainly they could not have brought the dead body here, and my husband's body never left the house prior to the funeral."
"The corpse which was left in place of that of your husband must have been smuggled into this house by some one. Why not by one of these men? How, is a matter for explanation later. There is one other possibility about which you may be able to enlighten me. What opportunity, if any, was there that this substitution may have occurred at the crematory?"
"None at all. The coffin was taken from the hearse by our own pall-bearers, friends all of them, and carried directly to the room into which the furnace opened. Then, in accordance with my special request, the coffin, unopened, was placed in the furnace in full view of all present."
"Were
