The Repentant Rake Read Online Free PDF Page B

fearsome stink. The corpse
that lay on the stone slab in the morgue was neither grossly misshapen nor
especially malodorous. Wounds were minimal and the herbs liberally scattered in
the cold chamber helped to smother the stench of death. Jonathan watched over
the shoulder of the surgeon as he examined the body that had been found at
Paul's Wharf on the previous night. He was struck by how peaceful the face of
the deceased looked, less like that of a murder victim than someone who had
passed gently away in his own bed.
        'Interesting,'
said the surgeon, peering at the cadaver's neck.
        'What
have you found sir?' asked Jonathan.
        'I'm
not sure.'
        'He's
so young to die.'
        'Still
in his twenties, I'd say Young, healthy and well muscled.'
        Jonathan
nodded. 'What a cruel waste of a life!'
        Ecclestone
continued his detailed inspection by the light of the candles. He was a small,
thin, agitated man in his fifties with colourless eyes and a skin so pale that
he might have climbed off one of the slabs in the morgue. A chamber of death
was his natural milieu and he had divined most of its secrets. While the
surgeon shifted his attention to the naked chest, Jonathan made his own
appraisal. The young man had been undeniably handsome in life, the long brown
hair well groomed and the carefully trimmed beard hinting at vanity. Smooth
hands and clean fingernails confirmed that he was a stranger to any manual
labour. There was an ugly red weal around his neck and bruising beneath his
left ear. What looked like more bruises showed on the chest and stomach. Only
one puncture wound was visible, close to the heart. The man's head lolled to
one side. His cheeks had a ruddy complexion.
        After
a thorough examination, Ecclestone stood back and clicked his tongue.
        'Well?'
said Jonathan.
        'He
was strangled to death, Mr Bale.'
        'I
thought he was stabbed through the heart.'
        'He
was,' agreed Ecclestone, 'but only after he was dead. That's why there was so
little blood. When death occurs, the circulation of the blood ceases.'
        'Why
stab a dead man?'
        'To
make absolutely sure that he was dead, I imagine.'
        'The murderer
took no chances,' noted Jonathan gruffly. 'He not only strangled and stabbed
the poor fellow, he beat him about the body for good measure.'
        'What
makes you think that, Mr Bale?'
        'Look
at those bruises, sir.'
        'That's
exactly what I have done.' He squinted up at the constable. 'You were one of
the men who found him, I understand.'
        'That
is so.'
        'Then
I'll warrant he was face down at the time.'
        Jonathan
was impressed. 'Why, so he was.'
        'And
had been for a little while, if my guess is correct.' He pointed a stick-like
finger. 'Those are not bruises you can see, Mr Bale. When the blood stops being
pumped around by the heart, it gradually sinks to the blood vessels in the
lowest part of the torso. In this case, to the chest and stomach, which have a
livid hue. After a certain amount of time, the purplish stains become fixed and
take on the appearance of large bruises. I've seen it happen so often. No,'
decided Ecclestone, gazing down at the corpse once more, 'I suspect that death
was swift, if brutal. Someone took him unawares and strangled him from behind,
putting a knee into the small of his back as he did so. If you turned him over,
as I did before you came in, you'd see the genuine bruise that's been left there.'
        'I
take your word for it, sir.'
        Ecclestone
was brisk. 'So, the cause of death has been established. My work is done. It's
up to others to discover the motive behind the murder.'
        'It
could hardly be gain,' argued Jonathan. 'There were valuable rings on his
fingers and money in his purse.'
        'It
was fortunate that you came along before anyone else found him.'
        'I
know.'
        'Do
you have any notion who he might