"I am a Yale man," said Ah Cum. She had been working upon a ribbon of microtome sections of the developing salamander, and he came to see what she had made of them. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree.
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