you there yourself?"
"Oh! no, no! I could not have endured such a sight. The cremation was resorted to as a special request of my husband. But I am bitterly opposed to such a disposition of the dead, and therefore remained at home."
"Then how do you know what you have told me? – that there was no chance for substitution at the crematory?"
"Because my brothers and other friends have related all that occurred there in detail, and all tell the same story that I have told you."
"Dr. Mortimer tells me that you decided to have the coffin closed finally on the evening prior to the funeral. With the casket closed, I presume you did not consider it necessary to have the usual watchers?"
"Not exactly, though the two gentlemen, I believe, sat up through the night, and occasionally visited the room where the casket was."
"Ah! Then it would seem to have been impossible for any one to enter the house and accomplish the exchange, without being detected by one or both of these gentlemen?"
"Of course not," said Mrs. Quadrant, and then, realizing the necessary deduction, she hastened to add: "I do not know. After all, they may not have sat up through all the night."
"Did any one enter the house that night, so far as you know?"
"No one, except Dr. Mortimer, who stopped in about ten as he was returning from a late professional call. He asked how I was, and went on, I believe."
"But neither of the undertakers came back upon any excuse?"
"Not to my knowledge."
At this moment some one was heard walking in the hall below, and Mrs. Quadrant added:
"I think that may be one of my brothers now. Suppose you go down and speak to him. He would know whether any one came to the house during the night. You may tell him that you have seen me, if you wish, and that I have no objection to your endeavoring to discover the truth."
Mr. Barnes bade Mrs. Quadrant adieu and went down to the parlor floor. Not meeting any one, he touched a bell, and when the servant responded, asked for either of the gentlemen of the house who might have come in. He was informed that Mr. Mark Quadrant was in the library, and was invited to see him there.
Mr. Mark Quadrant was of medium height, body finely proportioned, erect figure, a well-poised head, keen, bright eyes, a decided blond, and wore a Vandyke beard, close trimmed. He looked at Mr. Barnes in such a manner that the detective knew that whatever he might learn from this man would be nothing that he would prefer to conceal, unless accidentally surprised from him. It was necessary therefore to approach the subject with considerable circumspection.
"I have called," said Mr. Barnes, "in relation to the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of your brother."
"Are you connected with the police force?" asked Mr. Quadrant.
"No. I am a private detective."
"Then you will pardon my saying that you are an intruder – an unwelcome intruder."
"I think not," said Mr. Barnes, showing no irritation at his reception. "I have the permission of Mrs. Quadrant to investigate this affair."
"Oh! You have seen her, have you?"
"I have just had an interview with her."
"Then your intrusion is more than unwelcome; it is an impertinence."
"Why, pray?"
"You should have seen myself or my brother, before disturbing a woman in the midst of her grief."
"I asked for you or your brother, but you were both away. It was only then that I asked to see Mrs. Quadrant."
"You should not have done so. It was impertinent, I repeat. Why could you not have waited to see one of us?"
"Justice cannot wait. Delay is often dangerous."
"What have you to do with justice? This affair is none of your business."
"The State assumes that a crime is an outrage against all its citizens, and any man has the right to seek out and secure the punishment of the criminal."
"How do you know that any crime has been committed?"
"There can be no doubt about it. The removal of your brother's body from his coffin was a criminal act in itself, even if we do not take into account the object of the person who did this."
"And what, pray, was the object, since you are so wise?"
"Perhaps the substitution of the body of a victim of murder, in order that the person killed might be incinerated."
"That proposition is worthy of a detective. You first invent a crime, and then seek to gain employment in ferreting out what never occurred."
"That hardly holds with me, as I have offered my service without remuneration."
"Oh, I see. An enthusiast in your calling! A crank, in other words. Well, let me prick your little bubble. Suppose I can supply you with another motive, one not at all connected with murder?"
"I should be glad to hear you propound one."
"Suppose that I tell you that though my brother requested that his body should be cremated, both his widow and myself were opposed? Suppose that I further state that my brother Amos, being older than I, assumed the management of affairs, and insisted that the cremation should occur? And then suppose that I admit that to thwart that, I removed the body myself?"
"You ask me to suppose all this," said Mr. Barnes quietly. "In reply, I ask you, do you make such a statement?"
"Why, no. I do not intend to make any statement, because I do not consider that you have any right to mix yourself up in this affair. It is my wish that the matter should be allowed to rest. Nothing could be more repugnant to my feelings, or to my brother's, were he alive, poor fellow, than all this newspaper notoriety. I wish to see the body buried, and the mystery with it. I have no desire for any solution."
"But, despite your wishes, the affair will be, must be, investigated. Now, to discuss your imaginary proposition, I will say that it is so improbable that no one would believe it."
"Why not, pray?"
"First, because it was an unnatural procedure upon such an inadequate motive. A man might kill his brother, but he would hardly desecrate his brother's coffin merely to prevent a certain form of disposing of the dead."
"That is mere presumption. You cannot dogmatically state what may actuate a man."
"But in this case the means was inadequate to the end."
"How so?"
"If the combined wishes of yourself and the widow could not sway your brother Amos, who had taken charge of the funeral, how could you hope when the body should be removed from the river, that he would be more easily brought around to your wishes?"
"The effort to cremate the body having failed once, he would not resist my wishes in the second burial."
"That is doubtful. I should think he would be so incensed by your act, that he would be more than ever determined that
