If I had known what was before me, I never should have gone into the thing at all. It looked a little better when I had opened a window, and let in plenty of light; for, although I was, on the whole, far less afraid of dead than living men, I had an absurd feeling that I was doing this dead man a distinct wrong, as if it mattered to the dead, after all. When the affair was over, I thought more of the possible consequences than of its relation to the dead man himself; but do as I would at the time, I was in a ridiculous tremor, and especially when, in going through the forms of a _post-mortem_ dissection, I had to make the first cut through the skin. Of course, I made no examination of the internal organs. I wanted to know as little as possible about them, and to get done as soon as I could. Unluckily, however, the walls of the stomach had softened and given way, so that I could not help seeing, among the escaped contents of the stomach, numerous grains of a white powder, which I hastened to conceal from my sight by rapidly sewing up the incisions which I had made. I am free to confess now that I was careful not to uncover the man's face, and that when it was over I backed to the door, and hastily escaped from the room. On the stairs opposite to me Mrs. File was seated, with her bonnet on, and a small bundle in her hand. "Well," said she, rising as she spoke, and with a certain eagerness in her tones, "what killed him? Was it arsenic?" "Arsenic, my good woman!" said I; "when a man has typhoid fever, he don't need poison to kill him." "And you mean to say he was n't poisoned," said she, with more than a trace of disappointment in her voice,--"not poisoned at all?" "No more than you are," said I. "If I had found any signs of foul play, I should have had a regular inquest. As it is, the less said about it the better; and the fact is, it would have been much wiser to have kept quiet at the beginning. I can't understand why you should have troubled me about it at all." "Neither I would," said she, "if I had n't been pretty sure. I guess now the sooner I leave, the better for me." "As to that," I returned, "it is none of my business; but you may rest certain that you are mistaken about the cause of your brother's death." As I left the house, whom should I meet but Dr. Evans. "Why, halloa!" said he; "called you in, have they? Who 's sick?" You may believe I was scared. "Mrs. File," said I, remembering with horror that I had forgotten to ask whether at any time the man had had a doctor. "Bad lot," returned Evans; "I was sent for to see the brother when he was as good as dead." "As bad as dead," I retorted, with a sickly effort at a joke. "What killed him?" "I suppose one of the ulcers gave way, and that he died of the consequences. Perforation, you know, and that sort of thing. I thought of asking File for a _post_, but I did n't." "Wish you luck of them. Good-by."