ain't no murder been done I shall have to run for it; if there was"--and
her face set hard--"I guess I'll stay." With this she closed the door
and left me with the dead.

If I had known what was before me I never could have gone into the thing
at all. It looked a little better when I had opened a window and let in
plenty of light; for although I was, on the whole, far less afraid of
dead than living men, I had an absurd feeling that I was doing this dead
man a distinct wrong--as if it mattered to the dead, after all! When the
affair was over, I thought more of the possible consequences than of its
relation to the dead man himself; but do as I would at the time, I was
in a ridiculous funk, and especially when going through the forms of a
post-mortem examination.

I am free to confess now that I was careful not to uncover the man's
face, and that when it was over I backed to the door and hastily escaped
from the room. On the stairs opposite to me Mrs. File was seated, with
her bonnet on and a bundle in her hand.

"Well," said she, rising as she spoke, and with a certain eagerness in
her tone, "what killed him? Was it poison?"

"Poison, my good woman!" said I. "When a man has typhoid fever he don't
need poison to kill him. He had a relapse, that's all."

"And do you mean to say he wasn't poisoned," said she, with more than a
trace of disappointment in her voice--"not poisoned at all?"

"No more than you are," said I. "If I had found any signs of foul play I
should have had a regular inquest. As it is, the less said about it the