"What's what?"

The official tapped the paper with a gaunt finger. "'Minna Merivale,
aged twenty-five,'" he read.

"That's the name she went by."

"_Unmarried_" read Bartholomew Storrs in a voice of doom.

"Well?"

In the sexton's eyes gleamed an unholy savagery of satisfaction. "Take
her away."

"_What_?"

"Bury her somewhere else. Do not think that you can pollute the
ground--"

"Bartholomew!" I broke in, stepping hastily in front of Mr. Hines, for I
had seen all the pink ebb out of his face, leaving it a dreadful sort of
gray; and I had no desire to be witness of a murder, however much I
might deem it justified.

"I'll handle him," said Mr. Hines steadily. "Now; you! You got my
hundred in your jeans, ain't you!"

"Bribery!" boomed the sexton. He drew out the roll of bills and let it
fall from his contaminated fingers.