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as he answered:

      "I presume you have witnesses who heard the words, therefore it would be futile to deny it. It was a brutal remark, but I made it. I was exasperated by something which Mark had said, and replied in anger."

      "It is a sound doctrine, Mr. Quadrant," said the detective, "that words spoken in anger often more truly represent the speaker's feelings than what he says when his tongue is bridled."

      "Well?"

      "If we take this view, then it is apparent that you did not hold a very high regard for your brother."

      "That is quite true. Why should I?"

      "He was your brother."

      "And because of the accident of birth, I was bound to love him? A popular fallacy, Mr. Barnes. He was equally bound, then, to love me, but he did not. Indeed he wronged me most grievously."

      "By marrying the woman you loved?"

      Mr. Barnes felt ashamed of his question, as a surgeon often must be sorry to insert the scalpel. To his surprise it elicited no retort. Mr. Quadrant's reply was calmly spoken. All he said was:

      "Yes, he did that."

      "Did she know?" ventured the detective hesitatingly.

      "No, I think not – I hope not."

      There was a painful pause. Mr. Quadrant looked down at the floor, while Mr. Barnes watched him, trying to decide whether the man were acting a part with intent to deceive, as he had announced that he would not hesitate to do; or whether he were telling the truth, in which case the nobility of his character was brought more into perspective.

      "Are you sure," said Mr. Barnes after a pause, "that the body taken from the river was that of your brother Rufus?"

      "Why do you ask that?" said Mr. Quadrant, on the defensive at once. "Can there be any doubt?"

      "Before I reply, let me ask you another question. Did your brother Rufus have a scar on the sole of his foot?"

      The other man started perceptibly, and paused some time before answering. Then he asked:

      "What makes you think so?"

      "Mr. Mark Quadrant told me that his brother had such a scar, caused by gashing his foot while in swimming."

      "Ah, that is your source of information. Well, when Mark told you that his brother had met with such an accident, he told you the truth."

      "But did the accident leave a scar?" Mr. Barnes thought he detected a carefully worded evasive answer.

      "Yes, the cut left a bad scar; one easily noticed."

      "In that case I can reply to your question. If, as you both say, your brother had a scar on the sole of his foot, then there exists considerable doubt as to the identification of the body which was at the Morgue, the body which you have both accepted and buried as being that of your relative. Mr. Quadrant, there was no scar on that body."

      "Odd, isn't it?" said Mr. Quadrant, without any sign of surprise.

      "I should say it is very odd. How do you suppose it can be explained?"

      "I do not know, and, as I have told you before, I do not care. Quite the reverse; the less you comprehend this case the better pleased I shall be."

      "Mr. Quadrant," said Mr. Barnes, a little nettled, "since you so frankly admit that you wish me to fail, why should I not believe that you are telling me a falsehood when you state that your brother told me the truth?"

      "There is no reason that I care to advance," said Mr. Quadrant, "why you should believe me, but if you do not, you will go astray. I repeat, what my brother told you is true."

      It seemed to the detective that in all his varied experience he had never met with circumstances so exasperatingly intricate. Here was an identification for many reasons the most reliable that he had known, and now there appeared to be a flaw of such a nature that it could not be set aside. If the body was that of Mr. Quadrant, then both these men had lied. If they told the truth, then, in spite of science, the doctors, and the family, the identification had been false. In that case Rufus Quadrant had been cremated after all, and this would account for the statement in Mr. Mitchel's note that a human body had been incinerated. Could it be that these two brothers were jointly implicated in a murder, and had pretended to recognize the body at the Morgue in order to have it buried and to cover up their crime? It seemed incredible. Besides, the coincidence of the external and internal diseases was too great.

      "I would like to ask you a few questions in relation to the occurrences on the day and evening preceding the funeral," said Mr. Barnes, pursuing the conversation, hoping to catch from the answers some clue that might aid him.

      "Which funeral?" said Mr. Quadrant.

      "The first. I have been told that you and your brother were present when the widow last viewed the face of her husband, and that at that time, about five o'clock, you jointly agreed that the coffin should not be opened again. Is this true?"

      "Accurate in every detail."

      "Was the coffin closed at once? That is, before you left the room?"

      "The lower part of the coffin-top was, of course, in place and screwed fast when we entered the room. The upper part, exposing the face, was open. It was this that was closed in my presence."

      "I would like to get the facts here very accurately, if you are willing. You say, closed in your presence. Do you mean merely covered, or was the top screwed fast before you went out of the room, and, if so, by whom?"

      "Mark took our sister away, but Dr. Mortimer and myself remained until the screws were put in. Mr. Berial himself did that."

      "Did you observe that the screws were odd? Different from common screws?"

      Mr. Barnes hoped that the other man would betray something at this point, but he answered quite composedly:

      "I think I did at the time, but I could not describe them to you now. I half remember that Mr. Berial made some such comment as 'No one can get these out again without my permission.'"

      "Ah! He said that, did he? Yet some one must have gotten those screws out, for, if your identification was correct, your brother's body was taken out of that casket after the undertaker had put in those screws, which he said could not be removed without his permission. How do you suppose that was accomplished?"

      "How should I know, Mr. Barnes, unless, indeed, I did it myself, or instigated or connived at the doing? In either case, do you suppose I would give you any information on such a point?"

      "Did your brother Rufus have any rings on his fingers when placed in the coffin?" asked Mr. Barnes, swiftly changing the subject.

      "Yes – three: a diamond, a ruby, and a ring bearing his initial set in diamonds."

      "These rings were not on the body at the Morgue."

      "Neither was that scar," said Mr. Quadrant, with a suppressed laugh.

      "But this is different," said Mr. Barnes. "I did not find the scar, but I have found the rings."

      "Very clever of you, I am sure. But what does that prove?"

      "It proves that your brother's body was taken from the coffin before the coffin was placed in the crematory furnace."

      "Illogical and inaccurate," said Mr. Quadrant. "You prove by the recovery of the rings, merely that the rings were taken from the coffin."

      "Or, from the body after it was taken out," interjected Mr. Barnes.

      "In either case it is of no consequence. You have rooted up a theft, that is all. Catch the thief and jail him, if you like. I care nothing about that. It is the affair of my brother's death and burial that I wish to see dropped by the inquisitive public."

      "Yes, but suppose I tell you that the theory is that the man who stole the rings was your accomplice in the main matter? Don't you see that when we catch him, he is apt to tell all that he knows?"

      "When you catch him? Then you have not caught him yet. For so much I am grateful." He did not seem to care how incriminating his words might sound.

      "One

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