Read The Religious Body for Free Online

throng and were heaving heavy cameras about. Dr. Dabbe was still contemplating the body from all angles. The two Sisters were still praying—and the photographers didn’t like it.
    â€œHey, Inspector,” whispered one of them. “Call your dogs off, can’t you? Giving us the creeps kneeling there. And getting in the way. I want some pictures from over that side but I’m blowed if I’m going on my knees beside them.”
    â€œIt might give them the wrong idea, Dyson,” agreed Sloan softly. “They don’t know you as well as I do.” He glanced across the cellar. “They’re not upsetting the doctor.”
    â€œHe’s a born exhibitionist. All pathologists are and nothing upsets him. Nothing at all. I sometimes wonder if he’s human.” Dyson screwed a new flash bulb into its socket. “Besides, I don’t want those two figuring in any pix I do take. Or I’ll be spending the rest of my life explaining that they’re not ravens from the Tower of London or the Ku Klux Klan or something.”
    â€œToo much imagination, Dyson, that’s your trouble.”
    Nevertheless, he went back upstairs and found Sister Lucy.
    â€œCertainly, Inspector,” she said, when he explained. “I will ask the Sisters to continue their prayers and vigil in the Chapel.”
    Sloan murmured that that would do very nicely, thank you.
    At a word from her the two Sisters in the cellar rose from their knees in one economical movement, crossed themselves and withdrew.
    â€œThat’s better,” said Dyson, changing plates rapidly. “It’s our artistic temperaments, you know, Inspector. Very sensitive to atmosphere.”
    â€œGet on with it,” growled Sloan.
    Dyson jerked a finger at his assistant and crouched on his knees in a manner surprisingly reminiscent of that of the two nuns. Instead of having his hands clasped in front of him they held a heavy camera. He pressed a button and, for a moment, the whole cellar became illumined in a harsh, bright light.
    A moment later the pathologist came up to him.
    â€œI don’t know about Mr. Fox over there,” said Dr. Dabbe, “but I’ve finished down here for the time being. I’ve got the temperature readings—did you notice she was in a draught, by the way?—and all I need about the position of the body. It’s cold down here but not damp. At the moment I can’t tell you much more than Carret—a good chap, incidentally—that she died yesterday evening sometime. The body is quite cold. You’ll have to wait for more exact details—which is a pity because I dare say it’s important …”
    â€œYes,” said Sloan.
    â€œI’ll be as quick as I can.” He paused. “From what I can see from here there’s a fair bit of post-mortem injury—I think she was dead before she was put in this cellar and then damaged by the fall and so forth.”
    â€œNice,” said Sloan shortly.
    â€œVery,” agreed the pathologist. “Especially here.”
    â€œCause of death?”
    â€œDepressed fracture of skull.”
    â€œCan I quote you?”
    â€œLord, yes. I don’t need her on the table for that. You can see it from here. That’s not to say she hasn’t other injuries as well, but that’ll do for a start, won’t it?”
    Sloan nodded gloomily.
    Dabbe picked up his hat. “I’ve got a sample of the dust from that step and the shoe—I can tell you a bit more about that later. And the time of death.…”
    The quiet of the cellar was shattered suddenly by a bell ringing. No sooner had it stopped than they could hear the reverberations of many feet moving about above them.
    â€œIn some ways,” observed Sloan sententiously, “this place has much in common with a girls’ boarding school.”
    â€œYou don’t say?” Dabbe cast a long, raking glance over the body on