proper places to each day's temporary bodies, I can't say.
Sometimes," he added with a sly dig at Carton, "the only
explanation seems to be that the District Attorney's office has
requested the preservation of the grisly relics."

I could see that Carton was making a mental note that the practice
would be ended as far as his office was concerned.

"So--you saw the story in the newspapers about Mr. Murtha,"
repeated the keeper, not displeased to see us and at the publicity
it gave him. "It was I that discovered him--and yet many's the
times some of the boys that must have handled the body since it
was picked up beside the tracks must have seen him. It was too
late to get anyone to take the body away to-night, but the
arrangements have all been made, and it will be done early in the
morning before anyone else sees Pat Murtha here, as he shouldn't
be. We've done what we could for him ourselves--he was a fine
gentleman and many's the boy that owes a boost up in life to him."

Reverentially even the hardened keeper drew out one of the best of
the drawer-like boxes. On the slab before us lay the body. Carton
drew back, excitedly, shocked.

"It IS Murtha!" he exclaimed.

I, too, looked at it quickly. The name as Carton pronounced it, in
such a place, had, to me at least, an unpleasant likeness to
"murder."

Kennedy had bent down and was examining the mutilated body