Davidson hanging up his apron and preparing to
depart.
"Sorry I couldn't wait for you," he said, with no great show of
sincerity, "but a _post-mortem_ is a mere farce in a case like this; you
have seen all that there was to see. However, there is the body; Hart
hasn't closed it up yet."
With this and a curt "good-afternoon" he departed.
"I must apologize for Dr. Davidson, sir," said Hart, looking up with a
vexed face from the desk at which he was writing out his notes.
"You needn't," said Thorndyke; "you didn't supply him with manners; and
don't let me disturb you. I only want to verify one or two points."
Accepting the hint, Hart and I remained at the desk, while Thorndyke,
removing his hat, advanced to the long slate table, and bent over its
burden of pitiful tragedy. For some time he remained motionless, running
his eye gravely over the corpse, in search, no doubt, of bruises and
indications of a struggle. Then he stooped and narrowly examined the
wound, especially at its commencement and end. Suddenly he drew nearer,
peering intently as if something had attracted his attention, and having
taken out his lens, fetched a small sponge, with which he dried an
exposed process of the spine.
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