Chapter 9 third quarter

On Sunday, October 22, 1865, the front page of the latest issue of the "Boston Evening Post" published a reward of ten thousand dollars.As a result, there was chaos on the street, all kinds of clanging carriages stopped in front of the newsstands, and everyone rushed to buy newspapers. Widow Healy sent a special telegram to Commissioner Kurtz, briefly revealing her plan.In her telegram she warned Kurtz that she was writing to five newspapers in Boston that she would reveal the details of her husband's death and that she would announce a bounty for information leading to the murder.

The next step Mrs. Healy conceived was to punish and repent the bad guys.She felt that the happiest thing was to take the murderer to Gallo Hall, but instead of hanging him, she stripped him of his clothes, set him on fire, and after a while, allowed him to extinguish it (of course this is impossible) body of flames.These thoughts excited and horrified her, and could distract her from her husband's thoughts and assuage her growing hatred for his desertion. She had boxing gloves on her hands, a last resort to prevent her from scratching her own skin.Now it's common for her to go crazy, and there are scratches all over her body, which can't even be covered by her clothes.

Fortunately among the misfortunes, it was impossible for her to know the horrors of those sudden and sudden days.The autumn heat was in full swing, and Justice Healy muttered slowly, "Gentlemen of the jury..." Hundreds of hungry maggots entered the throbbing spongy body of his brain through the wound.Flies multiplied inside him, each laying hundreds of flesh-eating larvae.The justice tried to raise his hand, only to realize that his arm could not move. He moved his toes, but thought it was his legs.After a while, even speaking was incoherent. "Gentlemen's jury..." He could hear that the words didn't make sense, but he couldn't help it.Those things were eating up the syntactic brain tissue, which didn't taste good, but they needed food.During those four days, he occasionally regained consciousness briefly and felt severe pain.He believed he was dead, and wished he could die again soon. "The butterfly and the last bed..." He stared at the broken flag fluttering above his body, vaguely feeling a little strange.

The Second Unitarian Church of Cambridge.In the evening, after Reverend Talbot left, the sexton had been recording in the church log all the big and small things that happened in the church this week.That morning Talbot gave an interesting sermon.After the sermon, he lingered in the church for a while, listening comfortably to the deacon's enthusiastic comments.Later, when Talbot asked Sergeant Greg to open the heavy stone door at the end of the church wing, the verger frowned, a little reluctantly. It seemed that only a few minutes later, the sexton heard louder and louder shouts.The shouts sounded ethereal, but they undoubtedly came from somewhere in the church.Sergeant Greg thought for a long time, then put his ear on the stone door and listened carefully.The shout died away, but judging from the echo, it came from the tomb behind the door!The sexton picked out a bunch of keys that were jingling around his waist, and unlocked the stone door as he had done for Talbot just now, then took a deep breath and walked towards the tomb. go.

Greg became less and less courageous, and the oil lamp seemed a little timid, and the light became dimmer and dimmer.The verger had been holding his breath for a long time, and now he had to catch his breath.As soon as he exhaled, there was a fog in front of his eyes, and the fog condensed on his beard again.It was still a crisp autumn day in Cambridge, but it was as cold as winter in the crypt of the Second Church. "Is anyone there? Did you mean..." The tomb was dark, and the secretary's voice was light, and he quickly closed his mouth.He found small white dots strewn along the edge of the chamber.He followed the small dots and came to a place where the small dots were densely packed. He bent down to check these messy things, but he heard a loud crackling sound from the front and above.A stench that was even worse than the smell in the tomb floated over.

The sexton put his hat over his mouth and walked on along the eerie stone archway, lined with rows of coffins on the dirt floor.Fat rats scurried about on the walls.A flicker of light, but not from his oil lamp, lit the way ahead of him, still crackling as it burned. "Is anyone there?" The sexton walked forward nervously, holding onto the mud bricks on the wall to turn a corner. "My God!" he exclaimed. Not far ahead, there was a pit on the uneven ground. A pair of human feet protruded from the mouth of the pit. The thigh and calf could be clearly seen, but the rest of the body was buried in the pit.The soles of both feet were burning.The joints were shaking violently, and it looked as if the feet were kicking back and forth due to the unbearable burning pain.The flesh on the feet was burned, and the violent flames began to spread to the ankles.

Sergeant Greg fell to the ground, and there was a pile of clothes on the cold ground.He grabbed the top piece of clothing and smacked the flames at his feet to extinguish them. "Who are you?" he called out, but there was no answer, for the man was dead.The deceased only showed a pair of feet outside, and the secretary couldn't recognize who he was for a while. The sexton's mind went blank, and it took him a moment to remember that the clothes he used to put out the fire just now were priests' cassocks.Using hands and feet among the naked human bones on the ground, he climbed to the pile of neatly placed clothes and examined them one by one: shirt, a familiar shawl, white tie, scarf, black shoes, all Both belonged to the beloved Reverend Elisha Talbot.

Holmes walked out of his office on the second floor of the medical school, closed the door behind him, and nearly ran into a policeman in the hallway.The policeman told Holmes that he was looking for the superintendent of the Faculty of Medicine, because the Chief Constable was requisitioning the dissecting room of the Faculty to perform an autopsy on the body of an unfortunate gentleman just discovered.Holmes led the police to look for the dean, but there was no one in the dean's office. Holmes thought about it, he was the former dean after all, and even if he satisfied the police's requirements, he was not acting as a substitute.