Can Such Things Be?

enses compelled him to admit. His posture — flat upon his back, with his hands crossed upon his stomach and tied with something that he easily broke without profitably altering the

allotted to him. No philosopher was he — just a plain, commonplace person gifted, for the time being, with a pathological indifference: the organ that h

a storm. These brief, stammering illuminations brought out with ghastly distinctness the monuments and headstones of the cemetery and seemed to set them dancing. It was not a ni

ess had been employed about the cemetery as a man-of-all-work and it was his favorite pleasantry that he knew “every soul in the place.

rounds farthest from the public road,

aken out, for it was a perquisite of Jess, who carefully unscrewed the cover and laid it aside, exposing the body in black trousers and white shirt. At that instant the air sprang to flame, a cracking shock of thunder shook the s

d from anxiety and with the terror of their adventure still be

it?” cr

— what are

on, hitched to a gatepost near the door of the dissecting-room. Mechanically they entered the

g for my pa

dy of Henry Armstrong, the head defiled wi