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M. Tavernier was a tall young man with a sallow complexion, a bachelor who, had he been living like his late father, a sergeant of the gendarmes, in a pretty house surrounded by apple trees and green grass, would not, perhaps, have had that 'papier-mache' appearance, and would not have been dressed at eight o'clock in the morning in a black coat of the kind we see hanging in the Morgue.
When I saw the body at the Morgue I took her hand and placed it in that position, and the resemblance strongly confirmed my first conclusion. The size of the body also corresponds with the stature of the girl I knew. "When she lived with us I slept with her, and, therefore, know her peculiarities. She had a very pretty foot, of which she was exceedingly proud.
We'll have to hunt the hospitals, and the police headquarters, and the the " Dick was going to add "morgue," but he could not bring himself to utter the word. It was too awful to think that their father might be dead. "We'll have to explain to Doctor Wallington, or Professor Blackie," said Tom. "And send word to the girls," added Sam.
At the morgue, however, Lloyd showed a certain emotion when a door was opened suddenly and he was pushed into a room where he saw Martinez sitting on a chair and looking at him, Martinez with his shattered eye replaced by a glass one, and his dead face painted to a horrid semblance of life. This is one of the theatrical tricks of modern procedure, and the American was not prepared for it.
You will like them soon as I. You shall see five of them. Ah, ça ira, ça ira, ça ira! Come cross quickily! I am Madame la Morgue Mrs. Deadhouse! I will present you my friends, Monsieur Cadavre and Monsieur Squelette. Come, come, leetle mortal, let us play. Ouaah! And she uttered a horrid yell from her enormous mouth, and pushing her wig and bonnet back, so as to show her great, bald head.
I was once at Paris, and at a place called 'the Morgue' I saw exposed young men with wounded temples, and girls with dead mouths twisted, and innocent old women drowned; and there must be a biggish cry, you know, rising each night from the universal earth, accusing some hoary fault in the way men live together! What is the fault?
The notch in it was made by the steel buckle of his stock, which was cut through. "A strange legend has got abroad that after the deed was done, the figure rose, took the head from the basket, walked forth through the garden, and by the screaming porters at the gate, and went and laid itself down at the Morgue. But for this I will not vouch. Only of this be sure.
I ought to confess, though, that I had been drawn back to the Morgue, after he was put underground, to look at his clothes, and that I found them frightfully like him particularly his boots. However, I rattled away for Switzerland, looking forward and not backward, and so we parted company.
Again the vision of my first dreadful night in San Francisco rose before me, the cries for help from my murdered friend rang in my ears, and the scene in the alley and the figure in the morgue burned before my eyes. I told the tale as it had happened, and as I told it I read in the face before me the varying emotions of alarm, horror and grief that were stirred by its incidents.
You see, sir, he was called Shaun Bernha bekaise he never had a tooth in his head; an' no more had any of his family; and yet, sir, it's said, that he could bite a piece out of a plate of sheet iron as aisily as you or I could out a cake of gingerbread." "Well, Morgue, all that I can say to that is, that he had devilish hard gums, and stood in no fear of the toothache."
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