every issue was an "Extra."

Kennedy bought one, with the laughing remark, "Perhaps it's about
your robbery, Carton."

It was only a second before the smile on his face changed to a
look of extreme gravity. We crowded about him. In red ink across
the head of the paper were the words:

"BODY OF MURTHA, MISSING, FOUND IN MORGUE"

Down in a lower corner, in a little box into which late news could
be dropped, also in red ink, was the brief account:

This morning the body of an unknown man was found in The Bronx
near the Westchester Railroad tracks. He had been run over and
badly mutilated. After lying all day in the local morgue, it was
transferred, still unidentified, to the city Morgue downtown.

Early this evening one of the night attendants recognized the
unidentified body as that of Murtha, "the Smiling Boss," whose
escape day before yesterday from an asylum in Westchester has
remained a mystery until now.

"Well--what do you--think of that!" ejaculated Carton. "Murtha--
dead--and I thought the whole thing was a job they were putting up
on me!"

Kennedy crooked his finger at a cabby who was alertly violating
the new ordinance and soliciting fares away from a public cab