minutely.

"How do you suppose such a thing is possible--that he could lie
about the city, even here until the night keeper came on,--
unknown?" asked Carton, aghast.

"I don't know," I said, "but I imagine that in connection with the
actual inadequacy of the equipment one would find reflected the
same makeshift character in the attitude and actions of those who
handle the city's dead. It used to be the case, at least, that the
facilities for keeping records were often almost totally
neglected, and not through the fault of the Morgue keepers,
entirely. But, I understand it is better now."

"This is terrible," repeated Carton, averting his face. "Really,
Jameson, it makes me feel like a hound, for ever thinking that
Murtha might have been putting up a game on me. Poor old Murtha--I
should have preferred to remember him as the 'Smiling Boss' as
everyone always called him!"

I called to mind the last time we had seen Murtha, in Carton's
office as the bearer of an offer which had made Carton almost
beside himself with anger at the thought of the insult that he
would compromise with the organization. What a contrast, this,
with the Murtha who, in turn, had been trembling with passion at
Carton's refusal!

And yet I could not but reflect on the strangeness of it all--the
fact that the organization, of which Murtha was a part, had by its
neglect and failure to care for the human side of government when