The name given had been Alfieri. The dead man was said to have jumped overboard from a ferry-boat while demented. The claimant had been identified to the satisfaction of the authorities, which suggested to Greg that the gang he had to deal with possessed wide-spreading influence in the background. The authorities had been the more easily satisfied because there was no mark on the body to suggest foul play; and besides the man's jewelry a considerable sum of money had been found on his person. There was no question of a robbery. Greg satisfied himself with obtaining the address of the undertaker, and said nothing here about the facts of the case. He suspected that the newspaper offices must be in close touch with the morgue, and he had no desire to explode a public sensation until he was surer of his ground. The body had not been taken to one of the humble establishments in the neighborhood, but to a fine place half way up-town; "mortuarian" read the sign. It was the first time Greg had been in such a place. He found the religio-commercial atmosphere, the heavy professional commiseration rather oppressive. "Why can't undertakers be simply business-like?" he asked himself. In the handsome, subdued private office of the proprietor he found himself faced by a clayey-faced individual, irreproachably and sably clad, whose expression of preternatural woe was lightened in spite of himself by a spark of anticipation at the sight of, as he thought, a new customer. Greg disliked him at sight. Nobody likes an undertaker; not their fault of course; they have painful associations for all. "Good afternoon, sir," said the undertaker with an air that seemed to say further: "I know the sad errand that has brought you to me, and I feel for you from the bottom of my heart!" Just the same Greg had the feeling that he would have rubbed his hands, had he not been told that it was unrefined. All this made Greg a little brusquer than he need have been. "I understand you received a body from the morgue this afternoon said to be that of a Señor Alfieri." The undertaker's manner changed. "Morgue" brought out so bluntly offended his delicate susceptibilities. He apprehended an unfriendly atmosphere. He signified an affirmative. "Is it here now?" asked Greg. "May I ask what is your interest in the matter?" "I represent the dead man's niece." "Yes, it is here." "May I see it?" "Er--Not at the moment. It is being prepared. A little later perhaps--if you will be good enough to bring the necessary authorization." "Authorization from whom?" "Señor Alberto Alfieri, the dead man's nephew, who engaged the services of my establishment." "Would you mind describing this man to me?" The undertaker looked astonished, but complied nevertheless. "A young Spanish-American gentleman, short and stocky, very dark, pale skin through which his beard showed though he was freshly shaven, a purplish scar on his left cheek bone."